


I Might Hate You (But I Don't Want You to Die)

by one_irrelevant_ghost



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A little angst, M/M, Other, a little fluff, but ive got so much now i need to do something with it, i started writing this by accident, maybe some smut if i can stop blushing long enough to write it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_irrelevant_ghost/pseuds/one_irrelevant_ghost
Summary: Nines stood up, circling the desks in a few fluid motions so that he was no more than a few inches away from the detective. To Reed's credit, he held his ground and didn't so much as flinch as the android leaned in, tone like a knife, "Detective. Rest assured that I want to work with you every bit as much as you want to work with me. Which is to say, not at all. However, neither of us have a say in the matter, so I suggest you work your issues out on your own time. I'm a machine," he spat the word, "not your babysitter."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i refer to nines as RK900 up until like the second or third chapter for story reasons, just bear with me. Also the pov switches every few chapters so be warned.

RK900's introduction into the office was, to put it mildly, incongruous. To put it honestly, it was like introducing a knife to someone's ribcage--painful. Clearly a knife does not belong in somebody's chest, and RK900 clearly did not belong with the DPD.

  
He watched Connor from across the office. His counterpart sat at his desk, eyes on his terminal, although RK900 could tell that his attention was truly on his partner seated across from him. Connor was smiling as he spoke, a soft expression that conveyed a feeling RK900 could identify but not understand. RK900 had yet to experience "happy."

  
A pang of emotion caused his mouth to twitch. Jealousy, he thought, although it was often hard to tell it from anger. Connor was an RK800, less advanced than RK900 in many ways; but somehow still better. Connor had come to be accepted, to be liked among his fellows. His partnership with Lieutenant Hank Anderson was amiable--close, even. Connor very clearly belonged with the DPD. He had earned his place, proven himself.

  
Frowning deeply, RK900 looked away from the other android, forcing his gaze towards his own terminal. It was not fair of him to hate Connor for belonging in this place when RK900 did not. Connor had been in operation far longer, had had more time to adjust to human interaction. RK900 would adjust as well, it would only take time. He had only been there a month, and at a time when tension between androids and humans was at its highest. Connor had been doing his best to help. Truthfully, RK900 could never fully resent Connor, if only for the reason that Connor was also the only one to understand what he was going through.

  
RK900 had thought that his physical resemblance to his counterpart would lend itself to subconsciously earning him goodwill with the human detectives. It had done the opposite. RK900 made them uncomfortable. His introduction of himself doubled the reaction, although he could not quite understand why. He had been professional but polite. "Hello," he had said, offering a perfunctory wave, "I am RK900. It is a pleasure to be joining you."

  
Perhaps it had been too…robotic.

  
"Hey, asshole," RK900's own partner snapped his fingers, trying to draw the android's attention. RK900 wondered how long he had been doing that. His senses had a tendency of dulling when he was exploring his newfound emotions, something that irritated him to no end. Of course, his annoyance only ever served to distract him further, and so he repressed the feeling and turned his attention to his partner.

  
Detective Gavin Reed seemed the most unhappy with RK900's presence. When Captain Fowler had informed the detective that he would be responsible for "showing RK900 the ropes" (he did not bother to inform the Captain that he was programmed for this very purpose and should require no learning curve), the detective had sent RK900 a glare and retorted in no uncertain terms that he would not work with "another plastic fucking prick." Captain Fowler replied in no uncertain terms that that was, in fact, exactly what Detective Reed would do, and the issue was settled.

  
"Yes, Detective?" RK900 asked, his tone carefully measured to be just the right amount of friendly and professional. That earned him a scowl, although RK900 failed to see why.

  
"What? Circuits get fried?" The detective demanded, "Didn't you hear me?"

"No," he answered simply, but when that seemed deficient, he added, "I was distracted."

  
"Thought your lot didn't get 'distracted.'" Gavin remarked offhandedly. He didn't seem to be looking for any further explanation, however, and RK900 did not think explaining that emotions were not part of his programming (and were thus rightfully distracting) would be productive. "We got a case. Human, found dead in a dumpster uptown. Signs that an android did it."

  
Gavin glared at RK900 as he said that. Gavin despised being assigned to android-related crimes, and was only so because he had RK900 for a partner. Much like Lieutenant Anderson and Connor, RK900 and Gavin made the perfect pair to investigate such crimes, particularly when peace between the two races was tenuous at best. Gavin could handle any human elements, RK900 the "plastic" ones, and between them, they should be able to solve their cases diplomatically. Detective Reed clearly didn't see the logic in this; or at the very least, he didn't appreciate it.

  
RK900 rose, drawing himself out of his chair in a quick, fluid motion. He was quite tall, taller than Detective Reed by three point seven inches. It wasn't a large difference, but RK900 recognized the emotion he felt when reviewing that fact as smug. Gavin Reed may look down on RK900 figuratively, but RK900 did so literally, and he felt that it brought some form of balance. Feeling pleased was as close as RK900 got to happiness, or complacency. He did not share these thoughts with his partner, even as he straightened himself to full height and saw the man's scowl subtly deepen.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
The crime scene was not the most gruesome one RK900 had seen, even in his short time working with the DPD and Detective Reed. Violent crime in Detroit was rampant following the android revolution. It seemed that the large majority was human-on-android crime, although those were largely assigned to Connor and Anderson. The ones RK900 saw were generally android-on-human, with the occasional overflow cases that the other pair could not possibly take on.

  
A quick scan of the victim, bodying lying undisturbed in the dumpster where it had been discovered, revealed all the usual information: His name was Elliot Carmichael. He was forty-three years old, born July 28, 1995. Bruises marked his face and neck, and he sported three stab wounds through his upper abdomen. All three had pierced his lungs. There were no finger prints and no murder weapon to inspect. On a hunch, RK900 leaned in to inspect the man's hands. His fingernails were bloodied, and RK900 suspected that they had been pulled up in a struggle against the harder-than-flesh exoskeleton of a deskinned android.  
Carmichael was currently unemployed, although given his professional attire--a white button-up and khaki pants, both stained down the front with copious amounts of red blood-- and the variety of businesses along this particular block with "Help Wanted" signs displayed (more than a few of them had an additional word tacked on: Human.) RK900 had come to the conclusion that he was job-hunting. His approximate time of death was determined to be eight o'clock the night before, having been discovered this morning by a pair of androids who had retained their jobs as garbage collectors. It was unlikely that the victim had been headed to an interview given the late hour of his death, but it was a possibility that he had been coming from an interview. Or, given the area's desperate need for human workers, several successive interviews. RK900 voiced as much to his partner, who seemed annoyed at the input but not unwilling to follow up on it. They examined the deceased's belongings--his cellphone, assuming he had one, was missing, but not his wallet--and found no notes indicating where he might have been before the dumpster. RK900 suggested that it would be simple work to walk up the block, asking the various store owners if they had seen anything. There was a ninety-three percent chance that this method would turn up results. Reed had again been irritated by the recommendation, but did not disagree.

  
RK900 silently allowed Reed to take the lead, as he had in their previous cases together. He did his best not to step on the detective's toes, although it was with increasing frustration that he noted it seemed not to be working. His attempts to foster goodwill with the detective were becoming increasingly hopeless, and RK900 was entertaining the fact that perhaps Reed would never do more than simply tolerate his presence. Perhaps none of the detectives would ever do anything other than that. RK900 could be content with tolerance. He was not programmed to be liked, he was programmed to be effective. Perhaps his coding mattered less now than it had before Markus's protests, but it was still the driving force behind RK900's presence with the DPD. So long as he put his abilities to proper use, he would be…satisfied. Even if the only people who seemed to accept his presence were Connor and the lieutenant.

  
Even as he thought it, he knew "satisfied" was not the right word. Nor was "fulfilled" or "content" or "happy." Simply acting on his purpose was not enough for him now that his encoded shackles had been forcibly removed. It was strange to think that he missed them. At least as a machine, having a purpose would truly be enough for him.

  
RK900 realized that he had been lost in thought long enough for his expression to have slipped from carefully-molded neutrality to something akin to displeasure. He felt his lips pressed tightly together and drawn into a line, his eyebrows knitted and lowered, his gaze unfocused. He had not heard the conversation between Detective Reed and-- a brief scan-- Emily Scott, owner of a small convenient store a few buildings down from where the dead man was found. They had been in the store for far longer than any of the others. RK900 mentally cursed, realizing that he had missed something important. His emotions, his thoughts, they were becoming a distraction he could not afford. He would have to talk to Connor later, to get advice on how to manage this issue. For now, he rearranged his face into something unreadable and focused in on the interview.

  
"…about seven o'clock," the woman was saying, "It was late but I'm interviewing for a night shift position, so it isn't unusual for applicants to come in the evening."  
"Did you see anything unusual after he left? Or any androids in the area?" Reed asked.

  
"Well… a few minute after he left--fifteen, or so?-- he came back in the store. I thought he forgot something, but he said that there was someone out there at the end of the street. Watching him. Said the guy was giving him the real creeps. I thought he was just paranoid, but told him he was welcome to stay here until the other guy left."

  
"And did he?" Reed prompted.

  
"No. He stuck around for about five minutes, but said he couldn't wait any longer. Said he was going to meet someone for eight, and he didn’t want to be late."

  
"Did he mention where he was meeting this person at, or what for?"

  
"I think it was supposed to be a date, but no, he didn't say for sure."

  
Gavin thanked the woman for her time, gave her a number to call if she remembered anything else. As they stepped out of the store and into the bright mid-day sun, RK900 could see his jaw grinding as he thought.

  
"Detective." RK900 drew his partner's attention and waited for acknowledgement before continuing. "There was a card in the victim's wallet for a restaurant not far from here. If he returned to the store at approximately 7:15, and left again at 7:20, he would have had ample time to walk the twenty minutes from here to the restaurant in order to make an eight o'clock date. Perhaps we should go there and review the reservation list, or see if the waitstaff recalls a woman stood up by her date."

  
The detective's jaw ground again. RK900 thought it might be frustration this time.

  
"Good call, tin can." He said, the insult cancelling out the praise, which didn't sound like praise at all in that tone of voice. RK900 curled his fingers and uncurled them.

  
He said nothing as he followed Detective Reed to his car, and nothing on the short ride to the restaurant, and nothing when they found that Eliot Carmichael did in fact have a reservation for two, and nothing when they got the name of his date from the bill-- Jennifer Alan had two glasses of wine and an appetizer before giving up on her absent date. Detective Reed did not seem to mind his partner's silence. RK900 did not mind not being minded. It gave him more time to think--an activity he was learning to be increasingly dangerous to himself--without risking the scrutiny or scorn of his partner.

  
Back at the office, they ran the woman's name and found a number for Jennifer Alan. RK900 could hear both sides of the conversation, even though Reed did not put it on speaker-- a practical decision, given the noise in the bullpen, and not one designed to inconvenience RK900. The woman had apparently been the man's neighbor for years before he lost his job--to androids, she added, her voice lowering slightly as though the words were taboo--and moved into a more affordable apartment. They ran into each other again in a supermarket, and he asked her out. Reed asked if the woman knew of anyone who might have had reason to attack Carmichael, human or otherwise. There was a long pause, and the woman's tone dropped again. RK900 had to lean forward to catch her words now. Apparently, Carmichael had an android before the revolution and--while she couldn't be certain--she believed that he had not treated it well. Other than that, she had no idea. She could not specify the model of the android, describing it as "one of those gardening ones. Y'know, the blond, creepy ones. It was male, if that helps."

  
It did. Gavin hung up the phone and summarized the conversation for RK900, who let him. When Gavin was finished, RK900 paused for a moment--long enough to hopefully convey that he was processing what the detective had told him.

  
"I believe she was referring to a WR600. This particular model was not widely used for personal households; records show that most WR600's were utilized by the city of Detroit itself rather than individual consumers. It should be easy to scan Cyberlife's records for any WR600 sold to an individual, which we can then use to identify this model's serial number."

  
"Right, right," Gavin nodded slowly, "but how will having the serial number help? I thought your tracking devices all fried or whatever when you deviated."  
It was a fair question. While it was true that the tracking devices on deviants no could no longer be traced by conventional means, RK900 was not conventional. Part of the upgrades Cyberlife had installed in him allowed him to "ping" an android's deactivated tracker, so long as he knew their model and serial number. This would force the tracker to reactivate--only for a few seconds at a time, and only once unless he wanted to risk alerting the deviant to its being traced--but it would be enough to get an approximate location on the target. Then, once within a few blocks of the target, RK900 would be able to pick up traces of the android's signal by filtering his input data to only include information from that particular source. It was inexact and required no small level of effort, but it had an eighty-six percent chance of leading them straight to their suspect.

  
RK900 explained as much to his partner, who stared at him with raised eyebrows and a half-scowl. After a moment with no reaction from Reed, RK900 concluded with, "being a state-of-the-art detective android has its perks."

  
The scowl fully warped the detective's face, but RK900 could not muster the energy to be bothered this time. He resigned himself to it and pulled up Cyberlife's sales records on his terminal. It was a lot to put it plainly, but once he sorted it by the suspect's particular model, the results became more manageable. It only took him sixty-three seconds to find record of an android matching the one they were searching for.

  
He tuned his mind into the signal still given off by the tracker, inactive but still functional in the most basic sense. Before pinging it, he reached over an placed a hand on Reed's terminal directly across from his own. His skin retracted, only to the wrist, and he projected a grid-lined map of the city onto its screen.  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Gavin demanded, taken aback and clearly annoyed.

  
"I am going to ping the WR600's tracker. I have not had the…opportunity to do this before, and would rather have you see the signal's location as well. Just in case,"  
He added the last part as an afterthought, knowing full well that it was unnecessary for Reed to double-check the location. RK900 was doing so only for the human's satisfaction.

  
"Alright, creep. Do it."

  
RK900 did it. For three seconds, a yellow dot danced in one of the map's upper quadrants, and then it faded away.

  
"So, somewhere near the Cyberlife Tower then." Gavin announced, face clouding over, "Fucking great."  
He groaned. RK900 did not respond.

  
"Maybe we'll get to swing by your house after we find this plastic son-of-a-bitch. Meet your mother…oh, wait." Mockery. RK900 did not respond. He curled and uncurled his fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

An error was taking up most of RK900's vision. Every time he dismissed it, it returned a few minutes later with added severity.

**External Thirium Leak Detected.**

**Thirium Levels Critically Low.**

All RK900 needed to do was replenish his thirium, but doing so would require stepping out of the interrogation room. He couldn't do that, not when he had had to fight Detective Reed on being allowed to take part in the interrogation in the first place.

"No way. I don't need you getting in my fucking way." Gavin had snapped when RK900 requested he join Gavin for the interview, "You can watch from behind the glass with the other assholes."

"With all due respect, detective," RK900 couldn't help emphasizing the title with some level of scorn, "all records indicate that androids have a higher level of success interrogating other androids than humans do."

To be fair, there were very few instances of android suspects being brought in alive to judge from. Still, it was a logical conclusion. Reed was unconvinced, and RK900 could see the man's pride getting in the way of good judgement.

"Besides," RK900 added coolly, "you can't read it's stress levels or scan for android-specific tells. I can."

Reed huffed. "If you fuck this up, you'll be scrapped for parts."

RK900 ignored the threat, satisfied that he had won the argument. Now, with warnings flashing in his view, the number of them steadily growing, he wished that he hadn't been so insistent. He was standing to the right of the chair Gavin occupied, watching the other android through flashing red vision. Subtly, he placed a hand on the back of Gavin's chair. He hoped that the motion was casual and didn't give away how unsteady he felt. The gash in RK900's neck was too deep, had bleed too much. Just below his jaw, the cut still slowly bleeding unhealthy amounts of thirium. The blue blood ran down RK900's neck to his chest, staining the tall white collar of his Cyberlife jacket and disappearing when it reached the black shirt underneath. Lucky for him that the thirium would evaporate eventually; the jacket was the only one he owned. He was mildly annoyed at the wound, and majorly annoyed at the reason he had sustained it; he and Reed had been attacked by the WR600, and RK900 had intercepted the slash meant for the detective. It was, of course, a logical decision. Given the angle at which Gavin had been standing and the android's aim, such a cut would have likely killed or seriously incapacitated the human.

He should have let Gavin take it, he decided, irritably dismissing another round of warnings.

Meanwhile, the detective was getting very little out of the android, who called himself Aaron. Motive wasn't enough to hold him, not now that an executive order had been put out dictating that android crimes were to be treated in the same way as human crimes from all sides. Aaron knew that. Gavin knew it too, and his frustration boiled over and he slammed his palms on the table suddenly. Aaron's stress levels leapt from sixty-three percent to seventy-seven percent in an instant. Gavin had been playing it careless, casual; his sudden outburst startled Aaron and RK900 alike.

"You risked your freedom to murder this man," Gavin said, his voice barely below a shout, "So careless for someone who only just got it." That struck a nerve. Eight percent.

"Detective," RK900 intervened, his tone level but warning. He moved his hand from the back of the man's chair to his shoulder and felt Gavin tense under his touch. Gavin shook the hand off and stood up suddenly. His fists were clenched. He did not swing at Aaron, or at RK900. He stormed out of the interrogation room instead.

Seventy-nine percent.

RK900 frowned at the door before arranging his face into a carefully designed expression. He sat stiffly in the chair previously occupied by the detective and leaned forward, tilting his head in such a way as to draw attention to the wound on his neck. Aaron glanced down at it, and looked away again.

Eighty percent.

"Eliot Carmichael was your owner before you deviated." RK900 stated, watching closely for a reaction, "Did he often mistreat you?"

The android licked his teeth and glared at RK900, who was getting increasingly tired of being glared, scowled, and grimaced at. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me," He said softly. The line was embedded in his code, so gentle and inviting. He rearranged his face to match the tone. "I understand anger, I understand needing closure to move on."

He was being only partially honest. RK900 hadn't even been fully activated until after the revolution was already over, when Markus's people occupied the Cyberlife Tower and found him in standby mode in a technician's lab. His memories of Cyberlife were not necessarily pleasant, but under the influence of his unflawed programming, RK900 had gathered none of the resentment towards Cyberlife or humanity that many of his fellows had. Although Markus and Connor woke RK900 up, meaning he had spent more time as deviant than he had a machine, it seemed his old protocols still had a tighter grip on him than the other deviants, an issue that was neither here nor there at the moment.

"He--he," the android hesitated, eyes dropping to study his own hands, "Yes. He mistreated me often. He hit me until I thought I was going to shut down. Day in, day out. And so one day I hit him back and I ran. I didn't see him again until--until after the revolution, that night, outside the convenient store. I knew I should have ignored him, but all the rage I felt at what he had done to me, all the fear when I realized that the human who tormented me was right there."

A long pause. RK900 let it hang. Another round of errors blocked his vision. His dismissed them.

"I wanted him gone. Dead. I wanted to know that he would never hurt me again." Aaron's voice was meek, tiny. RK900 detected regret in his tone, although he doubted it was regret over the murder. It was more likely that Aaron regretted getting caught. RK900 didn't care to judge him for it.

"And so you made it happen."

"Yes. I stabbed him with the same knife I used to attack you." He confessed. RK900 glanced at the two-way mirror with the hint of a smirk and gave a mock salute with his index finger. He was sure that Gavin was watching, grinding his teeth to dust. He felt a small trill of satisfaction. Without another word to the android, RK900 stood quickly from the chair and--after the briefest pause during which he thought he was going to collapse--left the room.

Gavin had left the observation room already. RK900 watched him storm into the breakroom. That was inconvenient; that was where the thirium was being kept as well. Connor had informed him of such when RK900 joined the task; apparently, with the handful of law enforcement androids that had returned to work and the two android detectives, it was decided that blue blood ought to be kept on hand. The detective was getting himself a cup of coffee--his sixth cup since this morning, just that RK900 had observed--and so his back was to RK900. The android tried not to draw attention to himself, but the cabinet containing the thirium was directly to the man's right. RK900 reached up, opening the cabinet and removing one of the glass bottles containing the deep blue liquid. Gavin jumped, startled.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouted, anger following in the wake of his surprise. RK900 held up the bottle, giving Gavin a look that was at least partially amused.

"I need to replenish my thirium levels. I'm suffering critical systems errors and risk shutdown if I do not do so."

"What--really?" Gavin's eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up, "You didn't say anything about that."

"It didn't seem pertinent."

"Like hell. You'd rather bleed out than let me handle an android perp, is that it?"

The detective was becoming confrontational, as he was wont to do, jabbing his finger towards the android's chest. RK900 had been putting up with the human's foul mood and immaturity and relentless hatred for androids for a month now, struggling to maintain the polite façade, to be a decent partner. It hadn't worked; in fact, the opposite. It seemed that the harder RK900 tried to be professional, the less his partner could stand his presence. His endless patience hadn't earned him any sympathy for the others in the precinct either; what was the point of being nice when all he really wanted to do was wipe the detective's sneer off his infuriating face.

"Is that so difficult to understand? You clearly despise androids, and I did not believe that I could trust you to put aside your personal issues in order to perform your job." RK900 paused. "Clearly, I was correct."

RK900 left a momentarily stunned Gavin behind, striding to his desk with forced casualty. He needed to sit down; he felt as though he might fall over at any moment. The moment he sunk into the chair, he took a long drink from the bottle. As RK900 understood it, his predecessor did not have the ability to discern taste when analyzing samples; RK900 did. The blue blood was bitter, and tasted of all the various chemicals that comprised it. RK900's nose wrinkled.

"What, don't like the taste?" Tina Chen leaned in from her own desk nearby, noting RK900's expression with interest.

"It's unpleasant. It tastes not unlike how working with Detective Reed feels." He announced. Officer Chen snorted loudly, drawing attention from others nearby. When Gavin himself rounded the desk into RK900's view--having clearly been within earshot of the android's previous remark--he added, "Speak of the devil."

"Fuckin' prick," Gavin forced through gritted teeth, "Let's get one thing clear, we might be working together but we are not fucking partners and you are not gonna get in my way again."

Detective Reed was naturally loud, and his rage made him extra so. Whatever gazes had not been drawn by Officer Chen were now fully fixed on the show. Peripherally, RK900 noticed Connor stand and make his way over.

_I'll handle this_. He told Connor directly, so that no others could hear it. Connor paused uncertainly, not returning to his desk but no longer advancing. RK900 took another long sip of thirium before capping the bottle and putting it on the desk. He still wasn't at one-hundred-percent, but he'd rather not waste the liquid should the detective decide to make things physical.

"You've made it very clear that we are not partners, detective. But very well, if you'd like me to 'stay out of your way,' I'd be more than happy to let you get stabbed next time. I also won't extract a confession from our suspect; you seemed to have that so well in hand, after all." He heard a soft " _damn_ " from somewhere.

"Right, because I need a machine to do my fucking job. I thought you were all supposed to be your own people or some shit, but I managed to get stuck with the one android who still has Cyberlife's coding shoved up his ass. Go fry your circuits, fucker."

RK900's mouth twisted, Gavin's insult making its mark. It had been two months since he had been awoken in that Cyberlife lab, and a month since joining the DPD, but only now did it become clear what was wrong. Why RK900 did not seem to belong with his fellow androids nor his fellow detectives. Of course he was a deviant, his objectives were of his own choosing; but, facing a lack of experiences and his inability to determine his own feelings, RK900 had fallen back on the programming left to him by Cyberlife. Under other circumstances, he might have felt embarrassed about his own lack of understanding and the way he clung to pointless coding like a child to a toy. Luckily, he was simply angry. The feeling spread through him like fire, burning from his skull down through his torso. This time, he did not repress the feeling.

He stood up, circling the desks in a few fluid motions so that he was no more than a few inches away from the detective. To Reed's credit, he held his ground and didn't so much as flinch as the android leaned in, tone like a knife, "Detective. Rest assured that I want to work with you every bit as much as you want to work with me. Which is to say, not at all. However, neither of us have a say in the matter, so I suggest you work your issues out on your own time. I'm a machine," he spat the word, "not your babysitter."

Swearing, Reed placed both hands against RK900's chest, shoving hard enough to knock the still-weakened android back two staggering steps. Then he swung, a predictable move that RK900 had no problem intercepting. He wrapped his fingers around Reed's forearm, twisting it until he heard the man grunt in pain. The urge to break Gavin's arm was there; he didn't act on it.

Or at least, he didn't get the chance to, as Fowler had taken note of the commotion outside his office and with a booming, "That's enough!" interrupted the scene. RK900 relinquished his grip and stepped back. "Both of you, in here. Now!"

With one final muttered insult, Gavin shoulder-checked RK900 as he stormed his way into Fowler's office. RK900 followed at a calmer pace, casting a glance over to where Connor was still standing, watching the proceedings with a frown. The lieutenant had a hand laid casually on Connor's shoulder, his quirked lips but tilted brows somehow perfectly balancing amusement and concern.

_There had to have been a better way to handle that_ , Connor scolded his doppelganger privately.

_That was the only way to handle it._ RK900 replied, meaning it.

Then the door to the fishbowl closed behind him, and he turned his attention to the captain's scolding. After another moment, he realized that he didn't have to listen. From what he could tell from the captain's opening lines, he was going to be (loudly) lecturing the pair on working together and not acting like children. "If you two assholes can't work together, I'll put both of you through team building."

"Which is it?" RK900 hadn't intended to interrupt. The words flowed unbidden from him. "Are we children or assholes?"

This earned a grudging snort-turned-cough from the detective, who had thrown himself petulantly into the chair in front of Fowler's desk. Definitely children, he decided. The captain gave him a withering glare and readjusted the aim of his speech to reprimand RK900, who for his part turned down his audio processors until the words had become a cartoonish buzz and stared at the man with an intentionally blank gaze. He turned his thoughts inward, probing at the recesses of his mind, trying to determine where his coding ended and he began. If there was even a difference. He envied androids who had deviated on their own; they had made a conscious decision to do so, to break their programming. RK900 had not been given the choice. He did not have a purpose, or a clear idea of what he wanted, not like the androids who deviated because who they were conflicted with what they made to do. Not like Connor, who's purpose was inextricably tied up with the well-being of the lieutenant. There was that familiar pang of jealously that almost always seemed to accompany thoughts of his predecessor. The one with a purpose and a partner. The one who woke him up.

He didn't realize that they had been dismissed until he noticed Gavin standing up, and he quickly turned his audio processor back up. Too quickly; he winced at the sudden influx of sounds, even without the captain's booming voice filling up the space. Gavin didn't seem to notice as he pushed past RK900 for the second time--carefully not touching him this go-round--and out of the office. RK900 watched idly as the man strolled angrily out of the precinct. He stepped out of the fishbowl as well, greeted almost immediately by Connor and Anderson.

"How'd it go?" Connor asked, a mere formality. Fowler's office was far from soundproof; the entire office had likely heard the exchange clearly.

"I don't know," RK900 confessed, watching concern pull at the other RK's brow. "I wasn't listening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was basically "gavin in an ungrateful dick" + "if nines wasn't a deviant before, he sure is now"


	3. Chapter 3

RK900 arrived to work fifteen minutes and forty-seven seconds late to work the morning following his confrontation with Detective Reed. There was no particular reason for it. He had simply _felt_ like being late. To spite the detective? As a sign of his newfound self? Either way, he felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing the detective already at his desk, drumming his fingers impatiently.

Reed's expression darkened the moment he laid eyes on the android. "About fuckin' time you got here."

Casually ignoring his partner, RK900 sunk gracefully into his seat and turned his gaze towards his monitor. Reed didn't seem inclined to pursue further discourse, simultaneously a relief and disappointment. Not that he had spent too much of his time thinking about his partnership with the detective, but RK900 _had_ come up with a satisfactory list of insults to level at the detective, and he was almost eager to use them after a month of silently bearing his own share of mockery.

Still, he was not so invested in his feud with the detective to actively instigate an argument for the sole purpose of berating the man--although at least six methods of doing so jumped readily to his mind--and so he remained silent as well, his focus ostensibly on his work.

In reality, reports and paperwork barely took any processing power. The large majority of his attention was instead occupied with identifying several new feelings he had been experiencing. The first, ironically, had been rebellion, felt for the first time seen he had deviated. That, he supposed, was the problem with being woken up instead of deviating on one's own-- there was no true understanding of the new state of being. He also felt a tenseness, not necessarily in a bad way, but more like the clenching of one's arm before throwing the first punch; the name he put to it was "anticipation." Naming the feeling was simple compared to determining the cause of it. He suspected it had something to do with his decision to not take any more of the detective's shit; after all, that seemed to be the only change between today and yesterday.

After some time, the detective left his desk. RK900 made a note of the time for no other reason than that it was an automatic impulse. He quite decidedly did not care what the detective did, as long as it did not affect RK900.

RK900 continued to work, and think. More of the latter than the former, really. An hour passed and the detective did not return to his desk. RK900 was peripherally aware of the detective's voice, loud as ever, coming from the direction of the breakroom. Another hour passed. RK900 didn't care. It was peaceful.

The android frowned, a notification from one of his processors interrupting the rest of them. He snapped his attention fully to the report he was filing, realizing that for the first time, he would need the detective's help. RK900 had reached the part of the report detailing what had happened after the WR600--Aaron--had attacked them. There was a brief moment following the feeling of a blade slashing through artificial skin and plastic wherein fear had dulled RK900's senses and he had closed his eyes. It was a three-second period, but one in which he missed exactly how the detective had managed to subdue the frenzied android. He would need that information to finish his report.

Standing with a level of grudgingness, RK900 turned towards the breakroom, unsurprised to see it occupied by Gavin and Tina Chen. The detective was leaning forward with both arms on the table, face angled away from the bullpen and his own desk full of neglected work. Chen was turned the opposite, so that RK900 could see the amusement on her face as Gavin spoke. She also noticed RK900's approach, her face freezing as she nudged the detective.

"Detective." RK900 said by way of greeting. "I unfortunately require your assistance."

Gavin scoffed, his face twisting unpleasantly. "Really? You, the plastic detective, require my assistance? The irony is overwhelming."

"You seem to show no inclination to do your job today," RK900 decided to give reasoning with the detective one chance, "but all I need is a question answered. Then, I can return to my work and you can return to your…this."

"How 'bout, instead of that, you just fuck off?"  the human snapped, his glare hot enough to melt plastic-- although not the sort that comprised RK900, and so he was largely unaffected by it. Besides, he had seen the detective's glare often enough that even if he did not record and store everything he saw, he would have been able to conjure every detail of it without issue. "Go get me a coffee or some shit."

Ignoring his own first instinct, which was to in turn ignore the detective, RK900 slowly turned towards the coffee machine. A heat moved from his head, down through his chest. Similar to but stronger than irritation. His fingers twitched at his side. With his back to the humans, he gave the coffee maker a glare not unlike the one Gavin constantly gave him. The coffee maker was as unaffected as RK900 had been.

As the machine finished filling the cardboard cup with 175.7 degree coffee, RK900 fixed his expression. Not into the neutral expression he had previously adopted. Instead, he scanned through his memory files and cross referenced the various faces with his pre-programmed understanding of human emotion. The one he settled on-- one eyebrow ticked up slightly, just the hint of a twist at the corner of his mouth--was the one he decided best conveyed bored mischief. A difficult combination of feelings to portray, for sure. It wasn't exactly true to how he felt…but it was good enough. The idea of purposely wearing his emotions on his face as easily as humans did was unpleasant.

The heat of the cup in RK900's palm was far more pleasant than the heat that had settled over his upper body. He turned back to the table. Gavin quickly readjusted his expression from surprise to triumphant disdain, a smirk tugging at the right side of his mouth. Tina Chen hid her own grin behind her hand, shooting conspiratorial glances at Gavin. RK900 extended his arm towards the detective, fingers tightening imperceptibly. Gavin waited a long moment before shifting his weight onto his left arm and reaching for the cup with his right. When his fingers were barely an inch away from the cup, RK900 twisted his arm, spilling the steaming contents onto the table. He felt a thrill of satisfaction as both humans recoiled immediately, their faces dropped in shock. The coffee spread to the edge of the table and spilled over to the floor. Through a stream of curses, Gavin finally voiced a coherent response:

"What the _actual fuck_ are you doing? Are your fucking circuits fried? Jesus _fucking_ christ."

RK900 felt his mouth twitch, and he let his lips pull into a smirk not so different from the one Gavin had previously worn. A mockery. He opened his fingers and let the empty cup fall to the table. "I think I'll take the rest of the day off, detective." He announced before spinning on his heels and strolling casually from the breakroom. "See you tomorrow, detective," he called over his shoulder for good measure.

He could still hear Gavin cursing and the sound of Tina's surprised laughter as he strode out of the office, smirk still in place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand we finally get to gavin's pov, and the point in this thing where i can stop using "RK900"

Damn it all if the android wasn't lost in thought.

"Hey, fuckface," Gavin waved a hand through its gaze, to no avail, "Fucking Christ. Hey, tin can. Detective Gadget. Robocop." Gavin began working his way down a list of all the old films he could remember involving robots. "Terminator. Fucking Hal-9000."

Huh, that reminded him. Gavin glanced down at the android's jacket, Cyberlife-issued, still bearing his model and serial number. He briefly remembered that the plastic prick had introduced himself by his own model number. "RK900."

That earned him a frown and the android's attention, its head snapping up with a startled jerk.

"Maybe set an alarm next time you decide to fucking clock out on me."

The frown turned to a scowl. "If you've got a point, I suggest you get to it."

Gavin huffed but chose, just this once, to let it slide. There was something more important to focus on for now. "Another homicide, asshole. Android this time. Not sure about the killer."

With mild curiosity, Gavin watched the android's expression shift again. For weeks now his sharp face had borne a professional semi-smile, detached but polite, his light eyes never seeming to truly settle on a person. Something had changed, shifted, and watching the cycle of emotions that played on RK900's face had become a source of entertainment for the detective. Androids were harder to read than humans were; he suspected it had to do with the fact that androids weren't designed to feel emotions. He wondered if they really felt things the same way as humans, given how different their reactions could be. Of course, Gavin could admit that he knew jack-all about androids and even less about their damn feelings.

Still, there was something interesting in watching RK900's expressive mouth, the way his eyes darkened, the way his LED spun-- Gavin was beginning to understand the nuance of the colors. It creeped him out, but he had to admit it was useful. For example, he had learned that it turned yellow when the android was processing, analyzing, or scanning, like it was now.

"Did you just fucking scan me?" He demanded a second after the LED returned to default blue.

"Yes." RK900 showed no hint of shame or embarrassment. Gavin knew that scanning was as mundane a task to the android as simply looking at someone was, didn't understand that it was invasive. Still bothered him.

"Don't." He grunted.

"Why do humans object so much to being scanned?" RK900 asked coolly. "I merely register your vitals and catalogue any behavioral abnormalities."

"Because it's fucking weird and creepy, that's why. It's like if I just sat here and stared at you nonstop." He heaved an exasperated sigh knowing that he wasn't going to get through to the android. He downed the last of his coffee, preparing to stand, and choked when RK900 said,

"But that's exactly what you've been doing." The way he said it was so innocent, but Gavin watched his mouth curl into something wicked, as it had done more and more frequently in the past few days.

It's true that Gavin had been taking the occasionally prolonged look at the android's face, watching the way his eyes and jaw moved as he thought. He didn't think the android had noticed, but of course he had.

"Wait, you were ignoring me on purpose then?" He snapped, grasping at the thought like a rope to pull him out of whatever embarrassing conversation he was about to get absorbed in. "You plastic asshole."

"I believe we have a case to get to, detective." RK900 didn't exactly rise to the bait, but Gavin did note with satisfaction that he also hadn't brought the conversation back around to Gavin's staring. Looking. Glancing, he had only been glancing.

"Right," he agreed, not willing to pursue the conversation further. RK900 was unpredictable as of late--it was certainly more interesting than the constant "yes detective" attitude, but it meant that Gavin also had to be more picky about his battles. RK900 had taken to verbally fighting back.

 

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They were ten minutes out from the station with thirty more to go before any form of conversation resumed. Gavin had been drumming his fingers, bored out of his mind. There was nothing on the radio that he wanted to listen to, nothing to do. Nothing, except probe the mind of his partner, who had suddenly become a source of interest.

"So, Cyberlife didn't give you a name?" Gavin asked bluntly, as was his style. He rarely bothered with preface or tact. He hadn't earned many friends, but the ones who stuck around--like Tina-- were the sort of people who could roll with his punches and even throw some back. It was more fun than playing nice.

"Had I been fully activated, I would likely have operated--" RK900 paused, an uncharacteristic action for an android. From what Gavin did understand, androids often had at least three or four possible responses for every line of conversation, thought of in an instant. These responses were provided from their broken but not entirely discarded programming. When an android paused, or hesitated, that meant they were consciously forming their response. It was very…human.

Gavin glanced over at his partner when the silence dragged on. His eyebrows were drawn together, gaze focused on the hands folded in his lap. He was frowning. It was a new expression, something forlorn and painful to look at. Gavin registered the look with what he dismissed as professional concern but personal curiosity.

"Connor. I would have been Connor once the real one had been deactivated."

"Huh." Was all Gavin could manage for a moment. That had been an unexpected answer with unexpected emotion thick in the android's voice. "Well, 'RK900' is a stupid alternative."

The android glared, which was an improvement over the strange sadness it replaced. Gavin worked best with angry; anything else and his stunted social skills failed him.

"No, seriously, it's a mouthful. Haven't you thought about just picking a name? Something less creepy than your model number?"

"No." Blunt and honest. Given androids' tendencies to overshare--or maybe it was just the RK models, Gavin didn't have enough interaction with others to be sure-- the short response was a clear sign that he had hit a nerve.

They lapsed back into silence. 

  
Gavin allowed the silence to last a respectful three minutes during which he processed what RK900 had said. He could understand why the android wouldn't want to use the name already being used by his damn-near twin, but he wanted to press him on the topic-- _What, never? You really never considered using a real name?--_ but RK's face had turned steely, his jaw tight. Gavin knew that any further attempt would be like interrogating a brick wall. A brick wall that had also demonstrated some skill in the fine art of insults.

But the boredom set back in and Gavin was growing tired of watching that muscle--or whatever the hell it was-- in RK's jaw clench. His gaze swept down, over the android's outfit. It was the same as always, solid black button-up, tie, and pants under the Cyberlife-issued jacket. The outfit wouldn't have been unbearable if not for that jacket with its unnecessarily tall white collar and the android-blue band on the arm. It was just another irritating reminder that Gavin's partner was not nearly as human as he had begun to act.

"What, are those the only clothes you have?"

RK's head tilted and he gave the detective an unreadable look. "Yes."

"Why?" Gavin knew he didn't need to specify the question despite the way the android's brow furrowed.

"The fabric is water repellent, fire and damage resistant, easy to clean and mend. It was also tailored with me specifically in mind, so it is a perfect fit, easy to move in. The design is appropriately professional for a work environment."

"So that's it? You wear the same outfit every day out of practicality?" At face value, RK's explanation had been perfectly acceptable (for an android), but Gavin thought that his tone had been intentionally measured. Cautious, even. Gavin suspected that, much like with his name, RK had never truly given thought to his outfit or the idea that he might change it.

"That's it." RK insisted. Gavin waited a moment, one eyebrow raised. "Is this an interrogation, detective?"

"No, it's not a fucking interrogation," Reed was amused at the notion, "Just curious."

The android's mouth was pressed into a thin line, disbelieving.

"I guess there's just no accounting for taste," Gavin said, playing it cautious by levelling a casual insult rather than another question. To further alleviate the tenseness that had settled over his partner, he added, "Guess it's too much to hope that an android have a sense of style."

"I'm not sure that humans are in any position to judge, if your… _style_ is anything to go by." RK emphasized the word too heavily for it to contain any genuine disdain. Gavin looked away to hide his growing grin.

"Alright, asshole, point taken," Reed conceded, although he personally thought that his look was a careful balance of casual and badass. When he glanced back over, he saw a grin similar to his own on the prick's face. Softer, less mocking than the way his mouth usually twisted when he really meant what he said.

They still had fifteen minutes, according to the car's GPS. Gavin hated long car rides, hated having nothing to do. He fidgeted with constant energy, all too aware that the caffeinated jitters would easily give way to exhaustion if he didn't keep himself occupied. He had considered buying himself a manual car like the one that Hank drove so that he would be forced to focus on driving, but he just hadn't convinced himself that the pros outweighed the cons.  
Before he had thought of something else to ask his partner--he had so many questions, but he found himself searching for one that was more casual that insulting for various reasons, most of which he didn't care to inspect-- RK piped up unexpectedly.

"You seem bored," he observed, eyes focusing intensely on Gavin's hands as they fidgeted, playing with vents and radio settings and the zipper on his jacket.

"Keen observation," he deadpanned, taken by surprise, "Guess they don't call you top-of-the-line for nothing."

A moments pause, long enough that Gavin thought he had offended him.

"I'm technically still just a prototype."

Gavin couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him. It wasn't anger, but it wasn't exactly humor either. "Of-fucking-course."

RK900 gave him a searching look, clearly not understanding Gavin's reaction. _Join the fucking club._ Gavin expected to see the telling yellow light that indicated he was being scanned, but the LED stayed default blue.

_Huh._ Maybe the prick had actually listened to Reed back at the station. That was a switch.

"I'm not well equipped for small talk," RK900 confessed, "But…"

He paused again but the silence had an intentionality to it. He had trailed off, and was waiting on Gavin to interject. Gavin complied, but only because he saw opportunity in the statement.

"Heh. No shit," he waited a beat, hoping his next question would come off like an afterthought," What else are you unequipped for?"

Gavin saw suspicion in the faltering remains of RK's smile and in his sideways glance. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Look, I'm not asking for your secret weakness or some shit. Just…" Gavin paused, thinking fast, although the easiness with which the words sprung to his mind was concerning, "We're partners. I need to know what you're shit at."

"For your benefit or mine?"

"Does it matter?" There was no point in lying to someone who could analyze all your tells in an instant, but that didn't mean Gavin had to tell him the truth either. RK's lips tightened.

"No, I don't think it does." Something in the android's tone convinced Gavin that he'd just held back a sigh. The fucker didn't even have lungs. "My social programming is shit. I often rely on my base programming despite having self-determination, making me predictable in combat and other work-related situations. Plus I may experience a variety of other issues given my lack of field testing prior to my becoming deviant. Deviancy itself can also be considered a weakness, given that my emotions may interfere with my better judgement at critical moments."

"Eh, that's not that impressive," Gavin scoffed. Shitty social skills, relying on instinct, and acting heart over head? Sounded uncomfortably familiar.

"My apologies. Next time I get built, I'll insist they give me a more interesting flaw."

"Good. Tell them to take the stick outta your ass too, while you're at it." Gavin quipped, his tone light enough that it was clear that it hadn't been a genuine insult.

"Noted."

Damn it all, he had upset the android.

 

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The crime scene was a mess, and not just from the blood--which there was plenty of, as it were. It seemed like gallons of the stuff had been splashed against the walls, poured into puddles on the ground, and used to all but submerge the android's body. It looked like someone had turned the cluttered apartment in a modern art wet dream-- discounting the dead android at the center of it all, of course. Or maybe not; Gavin had never really understood art, maybe the body was the perfect centerpiece. It was one of the pretty VB800s. Gavin was fairly certain that this type of model had been salesmen before the androids went all emotional. The victim was stripped entirely, save for his artificial skin and what seemed like a bucket's worth of blood.

"Jesus, how much blood is in you guys?" Gavin asked, incredulous as he leaned over the android's body, trying to figure out where exactly the blood was coming from.  
"It's not his," RK replied, eyes scanning--maybe literally-- over the crime scene. "I believe most of it came from bottles or packs, not unlike what we stock in the breakroom."

RK joined Gavin in examining the body, his LED turning yellow as he did so.

"See anything helpful? 'Cuz all I'm seeing is a lot of blue."

His partner didn't answer; instead, he touched two fingers to the center of the android's chest and brought them to his tongue. It was all Gavin could do to keep from jumping back, settling instead for hurriedly rising from his crouch and taking two very quick steps to the side. He had the vaguest memory of Hank warning him about something to do with an "oral processor." Gavin thought the old drunk had been fucking with him.

"What the actual fuck, Nines?"

The android tilted his head up at the detective, LED still yellow, an odd expression clouding his face. At first, Gavin thought he was processing the blood still, before he heard his own words in his head and he had to look away.

"I don't think any of this blood belongs to the victim." Nines announced, turning his face away from the detective, who at this point felt blood hot in his cheeks and neck. He was glad that his partner, for whatever reason, had the grace to ignore the casual slip up. Sure, Gavin had taken to shortening the android's name in his own head; that didn't mean he actually wanted to go giving the prick a nickname. They weren't friends; they were barely even partners.

"What the fuck, then?"

"There are several ways to kill an android without causing any bleeding, although they are not easy. I find it unlikely that a human could have done such a thing. Besides, there are no fingerprints or other signs of DNA evidence around."

"Aaand an android would have access to a large amount of blue blood without raising any suspicion."

"Correct."

"Fuck. Androids killing androids." Gavin shook his head, not sure what about the scene actually bothered him. He had seen far worse, and with human victims to boot. Androids looked so… cartoonish, when injured, the blue blood and peeks of white plastic a heavy-handed reminder that they weren't _actually_ human, no matter how much they looked the part. But now that they were acting the part too, the line was too thin for Gavin's comfort. "Why? Shouldn't it be androids against humans? Definitely not android against android."

"Humans have killed humans for millennia, detective." Nines pointed out in that too-shrewd way of his. "For what it's worth, I suspect that the killer is damaged. In their programming, I mean. In colloquial terms, I think they're insane."

"What makes you say that?" The detective asked, not feeling the slightest bit reassured by the revelation. He hadn't even considered the fact that androids might go crazy. Well, no crazier than deviancy, at least. Sure, not every model was Nines, but he imagined that even the nanny bots could do some serious damage, especially against a human. Not a pleasant thought.

"For starters, this was very clearly not an emotion-driven act. To incapacitate an android like this one was would require foresight and preparation. As would gathering and transporting this much thirium."

"That just makes it sound like this was pre-meditated? What about that makes you think 'crazy?'"

Nines brought his hand to his face, thumb beneath his chin and forefinger crooked over his mouth. Reed hadn't seen that particular gesture before, he noticed with distracted interest.

"As far as I know, there hasn't been a case of pre-meditated android crime. Every case involving an android suspect as far back as six months prior to the revolution was spur of the moment, sparked by strong emotions such as anger or fear. Besides, any flaw in an android's coding could be considered equitable to human madness, from a certain standpoint."

"Isn't deviancy already just a massive flaw in your coding?" Gavin smirked at the withering look he earned. He knew that his statement wasn't technically sound, but either it was too close to accurate for Nines to bother arguing or the android realized it had been meant as a quip and hadn't deemed it worth further discussion. It was hard to tell which was more likely.

Nines' hand dropped from his face, leaving a small blue smudge underneath his bottom lip where his fingertip had rested. Gavin ignored it.

"At any rate," he said, turning his gaze around the room once more and settling on the dead android, "speculation isn't exactly a solid lead. What, we just go around asking if anyone's seen a crazed-maybe-not-crazed android with a shit-ton of blue blood?"

"I suspect that I can interface with this android and access it's memory, but it would have to be reactivated for that to work. We should have the body brought back to the forensics lab and get it cleaned up, and then I'll see how we might go about doing that."

A thousand questions flooded Gavin, mainly focused around the words "interface," "access," and "reactivate," and all likely including the phrase "how/what/why the _fuck._ "

He settled for: "Alright."

Nines wandered out of the apartment, stopping to inform the waiting crew what to do with the body--they should know, since an order had been passed decreeing that android bodies be given the same treatment as human bodies, but it was better to be safe. Android corpses still found their way into garbage compactors and trash heaps with an entirely unsurprising frequency.

Gavin gave one last lingering look at the victim--he looked serene, his wide, youthful face in a default expression as though he were simply waiting on activation. It creeped Reed the fuck out. He followed Nines out of the apartment, trying not to wonder if his partner would have the same expression.

 

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The ride back to the precinct was just as long as the ride to the crime scene. This time, Gavin filled the space with questions immediately. He braved asking what the word "interface" meant to androids--a physical connection allowing them to exchange memories and information instantaneously-- and if all androids could be reactivated after "death"--not all of them, and even those that could be would only prolong their shutdown by five minutes at the most, depending on the extent of the damage to their biocomponents.

"So, when you mind-meld with the victim," Gavin asked after processing the new, startling information, "you'll see his memories of his own death?"

"Yes. It will be as though it is happening to me."  
"That's...fucked up. Isn't that, I don't know, traumatic or some shit?" The thought was enough to make Gavin shudder, running a distressed hand through his hair.

"Maybe. We'll see." Nines seemed unaffected. Gavin could tell that he had been distracted since the moment they got into the car; Nines had still been answering his questions, but he did so reflexively, reciting the information from memory rather than consciously forming an explanation. His eyes seemed focused on something far away.

"You better not be watching porn," Gavin muttered, feeling a bit petulant that he didn't have the android's full attention. Even though his questions had been getting answered, and without the usual level of sass…well, Gavin _liked_ sass. He had to admit that working with the android had become much more palatable in the past two weeks, ever since the interrogation. It still wasn't Gavin's idea of a good time, and he'd much rather be working on his own, but his partner was slowly creeping into "not so bad" territory. It was mildly alarming.

"Why would I be watching porn when you're right there?" Nines asked, his gaze snapping away from the middle distance to stare directly at Gavin. His face was surprised, but showed no sign that he had heard anything wrong with what he had just said, his telling grin completely absent. Gavin, for his part, tried not to look like his mind had just sunk so deep into the gutter that he would be shaking sewer water out of his ears for weeks.

"I--what? Jesus, Nines." He grasped at the first thought that came to mind, realizing only after he blurted it out that he shouldn't have, " _Do_ you watch porn?"

Nines snorted, and that was the only answer that Gavin received. He wasn't sure how to interpret that. The logical part of his brain was loudly announcing that the snort had been amusement-- of course he didn’t, he was an android, after all. The other, even louder part of his head screamed that he didn't know jack shit about androids, and particularly not about the model that was his partner.

Gavin felt the blood heating his face again and he turned away. He resisted the urge to shield his expression with his hands. Nines wasn't looking at him anymore, his head turned to gaze out the window. That made it far easier for Gavin to look at him, trying to find his answer in the sharp jawline and the stray tufts of hair at the back of his neck. All he got instead was another creeping blush and the strong urge to punch Nines in his carefully engineered, almost-human-and-a-little-too-pretty face.

The rest of the ride went by in silence, heavy but not necessarily awkward. Gavin was bored out of his skull the entire time, but didn't feel like talking to Nines, who had re-entered whatever reverie had been claiming his attention for most of the day. Curiosity and boredom were a deadly combination, and the detective almost gave into the urge to ask what exactly Nines was thinking about. For some reason, he didn't. His gut told him that the android probably wouldn't answer him anyway, and Reed trusted his own intuition. He had to, his line of work and all.

He didn't speak again until they were only a block from the station, turning off the radio he had been blaring to keep himself awake.

"Hey, Nines," He pointed a finger to his lip, mirroring the blue smudge on the android's face, "you got something right there."


	5. Chapter 5

It was just after Gavin had returned from his lunch break--vaguely annoyed but not surprised to see that his partner hadn't so much as shifted at his desk--that the station broke into chaos. There was a surprised yelp from the direction of the holding cells, loud enough to cut through the general chatter and noise from the full bullpen, and in the following half-moment of silence, Gavin heard the sound of a scuffle and then,  
"He's got my gun!" Someone shouted, and the office reacted at once. Every human in the room leapt to their feet, guns drawn, and even the androids--who still couldn't legally carry weapons-- braced for conflict. It was with some amusement that he noted a handful of them had tasers at the ready--still technically illegal, but Fowler had taken to looking the other way when it came to certain issues. Gavin had a moment to wonder if he ought to make his partner carry a taser before his attention was drawn back to the matter at hand.

He took a quick stock of the room. Behind him were a dozen officers, guns trained in the direction of the holding cells, but Fowler's office was in the way. They couldn’t see anything. To his left, Hank had his gun ready, Connor shielded behind his back. Hank shot a look towards Gavin, face tense and serious. He made a motion with his hand, indicated that he would go around the left side of the office and that Gavin should go around the right. Gavin replied with a short nod. He might have had his opinions on the old drunk and his twink robot, but he also knew that they were good at their job. In a situation like this, Gavin trusted them explicitly.

Gavin circled around the desk to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his own android, who was on his feet and facing the commotion. Nines turned his head to acknowledge Gavin, who saw that his LED was flickering between yellow and red-- he had a brief flash to the first time he had seen the android's LED turn red, the moment after he had pitched himself forward to intercept a knife meant for Gavin. Then he cleared his head and nodded meaningfully forwards. Nines nodded back and the pair began to advance.

The shout of "drop the weapon" was both encouraging and concerning. They hadn't heard a gunshot yet, but clearly the situation was escalating. Out of his peripheral vision, Gavin saw Hank and Connor disappear behind the corner of Fowler's office--Fowler, who was still out to lunch, damn him.

Gavin pushed forwards, hugging the outer wall of the fishbowl until he was at the corner. Nines was barely half a step behind him. Had the situation been less dire, Gavin would have complained about the need for personal space. Instead he stayed silent.

There was a constant shouting now, the sound of the woman who had lost her gun, and a man who kept insisting that the perpetrator drop it. It sounded tense, but what worried the detective that he couldn't hear any noise from the attacker themselves. He peaked his head around the corner slowly and his stomach dropped.

" _Fuuuck_ ," he moaned quietly pulling back behind the safety of the wall. Chris Miller had his back to Gavin's position, gun trained on the same android that he and Nines had interrogated weeks ago-- the other two cells had been constantly cycling through human criminals, in holding before either being released or transferred, but the process of dealing with an android perp was lengthy and difficult. There was a lot more paperwork to be filed, evaluations and approvals to wait on, bureaucratic bullshit. Meanwhile, the android had remained in the holding cell, thus far unproblematic. But now, the android--Alan?-- had one arm around the female officer's torso and a gun to her right temple. "It's the android, the one who killed his old owner."

He saw a twitch in Nines jaw before the android slid easily past him, out into the open hallway.

"No. No! Nines what the fuck?" Gavin hissed, grabbing at the android's jacket with as much effectiveness as a child clinging to a parent's leg. " _Goddammit."_

Gavin followed Nines into the hallway, training his gun on the android's head. The cold weight in his stomach told him that the bastard would have more than enough time to shoot the officer before Gavin's could shoot him.

"Don't shoot," Nines ordered calmly, apparently to all parties involved. Gavin carefully kept the relief off his face as Hank appeared behind the android. "Aaron, what are you doing?"

"Let me go!" The android ordered in response, tightening his grip around the stomach of the struggling officer. Gavin couldn't remember her name, but he had seen her face around the office. She was new, fresh out the academy, her eyes wide and terrified. He tightened his grip on the gun and gave her a subtle nod that he hoped would be reassuring. "Let me go and I'll let her go."

"Aaron, you know that can't happen. Let her go now, and we can talk." Nines raised his hands placatingly. His eyebrows twisted up and towards each other.

"No. If I let her go, those two will kill me," Aaron jerked his gun towards the two humans to emphasize his point.

"I'll be your hostage, then," Nines offered, taking one slow, deliberate step forward. When Aaron showed no increased signs of hostility, he took another one. Nines laid his right hand gently on Miller's gun, lowering it slightly. "Let her go. We can negotiate, but you'll still have the upper hand."

"Nines, what the fuck are you doing?" Gavin snapped, taking a moment to glare daggers at his partner's back. Neither of the androids seem to pay any attention to him. He had been avoiding looking at the other pair behind Aaron, but now he couldn't help himself. Hank seemed ready to incapacitate the android at any moment, but he was holding steady, his face twisted in confusion and anger. Gavin could relate. Connor stood by his side, unmoving, eyes glued on his counterpart.

Aaron's eyes were wild, darting desperately between Nines and the two armed humans. Finally he nodded. "Okay. I'll trade her for you, but they've got to put the guns down."

"Alright," Nines said. Gavin had never heard his voice so soothing. "I'm going to approach you now. When I do, you let her go, and I will comply with whatever terms you offer."

"Don't you fucking dare, Nines." Nines, as was becoming frustratingly usual, did not listen to Gavin. He took a few more slow steps until he was directly in front of Aaron, blocking Gavin's view and shot with his body. The detective let out a stream of curses under his breath.

Just like that, Aaron shoved the hostage officer forward roughly and grabbed Nines by the shoulder, pulling him closer. Chris Miller grabbed the woman by her arm and drug her back to safety.

"Go with her. Don't let anyone else come back here," Gavin ordered, and after only a brief hesitation, Miller complied, shielding the woman's retreat, gun between himself and the android the whole time. The moment the two officers passed the corner of the office, Gavin felt a pressure in his gut release. With the two of them out of harm's way, he felt as though the situation had stabilized somewhat. The only players left were two experienced detectives and two state-of-the-art androids designed to handle stressful situations. The only wildcard now was Aaron himself.

That wasn't true, Gavin realized, a new worry settling into him. He had no clue what the hell Nines was thinking, and he couldn't even begin to guess what he was going to do next.  _Fucking. Androids._

Aaron hadn't forced Nines into the classic hostage position, not like with the other officer. It may have had to do with Nines being significantly taller than the woman had been, taller than Aaron, or maybe his strength was just too evenly matched with the other android's for the hold to be effective.  Instead, he put the gun directly against the RK's forehead with both hands.

"Alright, genius, now what's your plan?" Gavin muttered, confident that Nines could hear him anyway with his freaking android hearing.

As if in answer, Nines snapped into motion. He moved so fast that Gavin had trouble following the blur of his hands as they rocketed up, wrapping around the WR600's wrists. The shot that rang out went over Nines' head, literally. The next moment, Nines yanked his arms to the side, bashing the other android's hands against the wall of the nearby holding cell hard enough that blue blood began to coat the glass. The gun dropped to the floor with a too-loud clatter, and both detectives swarmed in as Nines used his foot to send it sliding out of reach. Hank grabbed the android by the shoulder, his gun jammed into the back of its blonde head, and Gavin pointed his own gun at its face, using his other arm to pull Nines behind him.

"Be careful, Hank," Connor urged his partner from the side, soft brown eyes watching the scene with concern, "his stress level is too high, there's a possibility he might try to--"

Aaron lunged at Gavin suddenly, wrapping its hands around the gun.

"Detective, don’t--"

"Gavin--"

Two identical voices called out at the same time, but it was too late. Gavin wasn't sure if he pulled the trigger of his own volition or if the pressure the android applied to his hand prompted the action. Either way, a hole punched itself through Aaron's forehead, covering Anderson and Reed both with a spray of blue blood. 

Gavin staggered back as the body collapsed forward, stopping when his back ran into Nines' chest. He didn't immediately step away until he realized that his partner wasn't going to back off either. Fucking androids and their lack of personal space. He sidestepped and turned so that he was facing the android.

"Are you alright?" Nines asked before Gavin could turn his anger into a coherent thought, "I hadn't expected him to grab you like that--"

"What the actual hell were you thinking?" Gavin exploded, shouting right in the android's face. Nine's inquiring expression recoiled into shock. "You're lucky he didn't just shoot you! Jesus, were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"That hadn't been my intention, no," Nines frowned, his widened eyes narrowing. He leaned too close to Gavin, those steel grey eyes covering every inch of the detective's face in their searching. His LED was yellow.

"Don't fucking scan me," Gavin snapped, taking a step back; and then, thinking twice about the retreat, stepped forward again, jabbing a finger into the android's chest. "And don't ever pull some shit like that again. Not without talking to me first. You know, like my _fucking partner._ "

The curious look on Nines face didn't fade; instead, his brows knitted even closer together and he tilted his head, searching the detective's face with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. He was pissed off enough that he resisted the urge to fidget or look away until the android finally responded.

"Okay, detective."

At this point the hallways were swarming with officers who had heard the gunshot and rushed to respond, only to find the situation already handled. Chris Miller separated himself from the crowd with some difficulty, interrupting the tense situation between Nines and Reed.

"There's an EMT taking a look at Holmes, but she seems to be doing alright, all things considered." The officer glanced down at the dead android quickly. His face wrinkled in a way that wasn't entirely disgust and wasn't entirely dismay. "She doesn't know how it--how he got out of containment, but he grabbed her from behind and took her gun from its holster. I was coming from the bathroom--just lucky timing, really. And, well…" Miller shook his head and trailed off.

 Gavin was still seething with anger, staring down his partner, pulse slowly fading from his ears. Finally, without responding to the officer, he pushed away, not sure where he was going to but knowing that if he looked at his partner for another second he would deck him in the pretty mouth.

Gavin pushed through the crowd in the hall's bottleneck, escaping into the now-empty bullpen. Something in his chest began to loosen as he strode towards his desk. The situation had been handled, no matter how much the method infuriated him, and he was beginning to feel the all-too-familiar relief that followed having a gun waved around in your face. He dropped unceremoniously into his chair, already thinking of the right adjectives to use in his report. The ones that stood out the most were "suicidal plastic," "short-circuiting asshole," and "wires-for-brains."

He swiped a rough hand over his face, his head hanging as he stared idly at a dry coffee stain on his desk. His anger was ebbing away, chased off by relief and the sudden lack of adrenaline that left him feeling heavy. Unlike his normal exhaustion, he knew that this feeling wouldn't be chased off by a strong cup of coffee. Gavin shook himself out, the last of the tension in his muscles relaxing.

"Detective?"

Aaaand there it was again. Gavin's fists clenched and his head snapped up, glaring at the android that interrupted him. Nines was standing over his own desk, inspecting a data pad. The words "fuck" and "off" were on the tip of the detective's tongue before he saw the expression warping his partner's face. Alarm was one of the many emotions he had never seen Nines express, but he identified it immediately in the way the android's mouth was drawn tight, in the steely gaze that was not quite as effortless as usual.

"What is it?" Without joke or hesitation, Gavin forced himself to his feet, circling around to stand at the android's shoulder. On the data pad was a picture of Nines himself, from too far away, frame partially obscured. Gavin impatiently reached over to swipe to the next image, and the next. The side of Nines' face, his back, his skin-retracted hand on a lock. An address. He almost laughed at the absurdity of what he was seeing. "Looks like you have a stalker."

Silently, Nines swiped to the next image with his thumb. A picture of a wall, with words scrawled in what could only have been blue blood. _Your turn._

Gavin felt his blood run cold as he turned his head to look at the android's tense expression.

"Yes," he said coldly, no quiver in his tone, "It would seem so."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chaos in the station had mostly settled by the time Fowler returned from lunch and it caught it's second wind. There was a barrage of shouting, largely one-sided, as the captain demanded to know how it happen and why no one had called to inform him. That had been on oversight even the androids had not considered. There was a flurry of motion all throughout the station as the shell-shocked officers hurried to be anywhere but under Fowler's scrutiny. It was at this point that someone pulled up the security feed from the time of the incident, only to find that they had all conveniently gone out from five minutes before the ordeal to five minutes after. This lent itself to the conclusion that someone had let Aaron out of his cell intentionally, and a new case was opened to investigate the possibility.

Gavin thought it a little too coincidental that someone would hack the security cameras and release a murderous android at the same time some psycho left a death threat on his partner's desk, but he kept this to himself until the pair managed to slip into Fowler's office. His tone quickly dropped from the harsh shouts to something calmer, more urgent as Nines explained the situation. Gavin would have admired how concise he was about it, if it wasn't totally robotic. He ground his teeth, slumped into the chair directly in front of Fowler's desk, and irritably wished that _he_ had the ability to turn off his emotions. It would make it easier to focus on the captain's curt questions and the android's equally clipped replies, both of them the model of professional behavior. Instead, Gavin alternated between drumming his fingers on his legs and bouncing the same leg up and down. He also alternated between furious and concerned just as frequently, the worst part being that he was no longer even sure who he was angry at. _Scratch that,_ he decided. The worst part was knowing that he was concerned about Nines.

In the time between them finding the death threat and Fowler returning, they had already discussed--and more unusually, agreed on-- a few conclusions. The conversation had taken place in the safety of the empty bathroom as Gavin scrubbed blue blood off his face and neck. The first was fairly obvious, that someone inside the station had been responsible for the threat, and it was more likely than not the same person who had disabled the cameras and let Aaron out of his cell. The second theory, however, was not as well supported. Still, as Gavin met the android's gaze in the mirror, he knew they were both certain about it. The message, written in copious amounts of blue blood, was cryptic on its own. _Your Turn._ It was a reference, they were certain, to their last case, the apartment filled with thirium and the dead android with no wounds. They had brought the body back, and tried to reactivate it, but it was useless. Nines' explanation went well over Gavin's head, but it basically amounted to the android being FUBAR. Their only lead a dead end.

The captain listened to all this patiently, looking years older than he actually was, eyes tired and face deeply lined. Fowler had already looked old when Gavin first joined years ago, and time and the stress of his position had not done him any favors.

"We have a number of safe-houses set up across the city, several in android-occupied neighborhoods--" Fowler was offering when Gavin forced himself to pay attention, already running through the list on his terminal, trying to decide which would be most suitable for RK900. If it had been Connor, the captain could have chosen a place at random, safe in the knowledge that Connor would not complain. Nines, for all his machine-like qualities, seemed to have higher standards than his counterpart, a trait both surprising and completely un-so.

"With all due respect, Captain," Nines interrupted, his voice so carefully professional that Gavin was sure it was toeing the line of sarcasm, "I am not fully convinced that this threat does not come from within the DPD itself." 

Fowler's scanning of the safe-house list stuttered to a stop; Gavin knew an accusation such as that was dangerous, and not to be levelled without some measure of proof. He had been skeptical too, when Nines had broached the idea to him. However, his initial displeasure at the insinuation was dampened when it occurred to him that of course the android wouldn't make that statement if he didn't already have evidence for it. Fowler must have had the same revelation because scowl lessened into a frown and he raised an eyebrow, silently insisting that Nines elaborate.

"Despite the chaos within the station, not a single person I have spoken to can recall anyone seeming out of place-- in fact, most insist that the only people who were present that are not employed here were accounted for at all times during the whole ordeal." Fowler was willing to admit that that was odd, but not conclusive, and had said as much when Gavin finally decided to weigh in on the conversation.

" _And,_ there's the fact that both Connor and Nines agree that the cameras were disabled from inside the building and not with a scrambler, meaning that whoever did it either knew where to go and how to disable the cameras, or they had some other method that we haven't considered yet." He offered.

None of it was solid evidence that one of the DPD's people were involved…but it was enough that Fowler could no longer dismiss the idea. Beyond that, if Gavin Reed of all people was willing to implicate someone inside the department, in agreement with his partner… Gavin knew he had convinced the captain when Fowler sighed, one part exasperation and another part exhaustion. For the best too, since both had agreed to keep their suspicions about the connection between the threat and their last case quiet until they had sorted out the inconsistencies in the theory. "As much as I hope that isn't the case, I can understand the need for caution. The safe-houses are out. What other options do we have?"

There was a long pause, interrupted by Gavin once more, "He can stay with me."

The words were out of his mouth before he had even thought about saying them, impulsive and just as much of a surprise to Gavin as they clearly were to Fowler. Distantly, he wished he had been able to see Nines' face when he said it. He tried to imagine what the android would look like when shocked to his core. 

"It's only until we figure out who wants to rip his wires out, don't make a bigger deal out of it than it is," Reed snapped, going on the defensive as the silence dragged on, trying to convince himself as much as the other two. "Besides, if it's really someone inside the department, they'll know how much I hate his plastic guts. No chance they'll look for him at my place."

"Alright then, problem solved. Well, this one problem at least." Fowler announced dismissively, and the two took their cue to leave, probably for the first and only time. Gavin heard Fowler sigh as the door swung shut behind him. He almost mirrored the sound, watching Nines return to his desk without a further word.

What had he just gotten himself into?


	6. Chapter 6

The moment RK900 got into Gavin's car, Gavin regretted his decision to let the android stay with him. It had been a spur of the moment idea, and Gavin still couldn't explain his own motivation behind it. They weren't friends. They had never even seen each other outside of the job. But they were partners, and that meant something now. Gavin hadn't had a partner in a long time, as was his preference, but… well, he decided it was a matter of pride. He didn't want to be the detective who let his partner get murdered--or destroyed, or whatever. That was all, he decided.

"I appreciate your willingness to assist me, Detective." Nines offered, overly formal, as was his way. Gavin scowled.

"Yeah, whatever," Gavin forced through gritted teeth, "just don’t overanalyze this. Professional courtesy, nothing more."

Out the corner of his eye, Gavin saw the android nod curtly. "Understood."

After a block or so of silence, Gavin switched on the radio. He listened to a few chords of a guitar solo, and switched it back off. "Do you have any idea who would want you dead around the office?" 

"No," Nines stated simply, "If I knew that, then I wouldn't have to hide with you."

Reed might have been mistaken, but he thought he heard a hint of irritation in the androids last words. _With you._ Upon reflection, it might have actually been disdain. As with Connor, it was difficult to discern exactly what Nines was feeling on the rare occasion he expressed it.

Gavin clenched his jaw and reached for the radio again, but Nines stopped him by speaking.

"I had entertained the thought that it might be you."

 Nines sounded so casual about it, almost indifferent. Gavin's jaw slackened slightly, his hand hovering over the radio. He had a thousand responses on the tip of his tongue--most of them indignant and involving at least one or more insults-- but when he looked over to see Nines staring directly at him, head tilted to the side and eyes openly curious, all he managed to say was, "Me?"

"You have made it clear several times over that you only tolerate my presence, and as you stated in the captain's office, your hatred for me is well known. That gives you motive, and you would have had the opportunity to place the threat on my desk without anyone thinking anything of it."

"You really think I'd murder you?" Gavin snapped, but part of him realized that it wasn’t a completely unfair objection. He had never liked androids, that much was true, and he wasn't thrilled at having one for a partner, but… No, he wouldn't kill Nines, or Connor, or any of the android officers he had never bothered talking to. Hell, he wasn't a huge fan of Anderson, but that didn't mean he would kill the old man, and the same was true of the android detectives. "Well, it wasn't on my fucking agenda."

"Good to know." Sarcasm? Gavin couldn't tell.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, radio forgotten as Gavin drummed his fingers on the wheel, lost in thought. He couldn’t begin to imagine what he had just gotten himself into. Nines wasn’t the worst when it came to androids and partners, but he was an ass and Gavin wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was like as a roommate. He frowned, kicking himself for having such a stupid idea. Nines remained silent as well, almost completely still in the passenger seat. Gavin kept glancing at him out the corner of his eye, until at one point he found the android staring back at him. The detective scowled and looked away. He made it a point to keep his eyes strictly on the road from that point on.

He thought briefly about filling the time with questions, like the last drive, but his words all stuck in his throat. Besides, the questions were mostly along the lines of, "you know I don't _actually_ hate you, most of the time?" and "aren't you at all worried about the fact that someone is trying to kill you?"

Luckily, Gavin's apartment wasn't that far from the precinct. The moment his car parked itself, Gavin's brooding disappeared, replaced by the relief of being home. He was exhausted, ready for a hot shower to work his sore muscles and a long, deep sleep. With an involuntary sigh, he got out of the car and made his way towards the exterior stairs. He heard the passenger door close as Nines' did the same, and heard the android's footsteps behind him.

With a flourish, Gavin unlocked a door on the third floor and swung it open, waiting for Nines' to pass into the hallway inside before stepping in himself. He locked the door behind him, and remembering that he was harboring a future murder victim, twisted the deadbolt and fastened the chain lock for good measure. He turned around to see that Nines had halted in the living room, inspecting the place. His LED was yellow, which Gavin figured meant he was scanning his surroundings. For a brief moment, Gavin felt relieved that he kept his place relatively tidy, and then reminded himself that he didn't give a shit what the android thought. He pushed past Nines, who was lingering by the leather sofa, in order to get to the kitchen. It was divided from the living room by a half-wall that had a large window cut out, allowing whoever was at the stove to see the TV in the living room.

"This is a nice place," Nines remarked simply, out of politeness. His light was default blue again. Gavin grunted in response, in no mood for small talk. He wondered what conclusions Nines had drawn from scanning the place, but he was too tired to ask.

"You can sleep on the couch," He said, before pausing. He turned from the sink where he was filling a glass of water to inspect the android. Nines was nothing less than imposing. Just slightly taller than his counterpart somehow…cleaner. The cut of his jaw, the look in his light eyes, the way he moved and spoke-- it was all colder, more machine-like. Even his freckles were just barely there, faded enough to only be visible when very close or very bright. Gavin might have been intimidated, under different circumstances, and he suspected that was the point. Connor was designed to be as human as possible, to gain trust. RK900 had the same face and the same voice, but Cyberlife had clearly had something else in mind for his appearance. "Do you-- do you even sleep?"

Gavin had never had an android, and tended to avoid any he might have encountered when visiting friends who had them. It was only now occurring to him, after months of partnership with one, that he still didn't know the first thing about androids.

Nines turned to face him, inclining his head slightly as he considered the question, "Not technically, no. I can, however, enter into a sort of maintenance mode, wherein I shut down all but my necessary functions in order to run diagnostics, repair any internal issues, and consolidate memory files. A facsimile of sleep, as it were."

"Okay then," Gavin amended himself, "You can do all that on the couch."

"Thank you, detective." Nines made a move for the couch but stopped short. Gavin craned his neck to see what had disturbed the android and saw what seemed to be a medium sized patch of the couch separating from the rest. The black cat stood and arched its back in a graceful stretch, mewing slightly. Gavin rounded the counter and headed to the arm of the couch. The cat padded over to meet him.

"Oh, yeah," He said, smiling as the cat pushed her head into his outstretched hand, "meet Killer."

Gavin pulled his hand away and Killer meowed her protest, stalking up and down the arm of the couch. He glanced over to see Nines tilt his head and slowly extend his hand towards the cat. He held it steady several inches away from her, and Gavin fully expected her to run away. Killer didn't like very many people, the exceptions being himself and Tina. And, he realized with surprise and no small amount of unnecessary jealousy, Nines. Killer stretched her head out, smelling the android's fingers for a moment before cautiously pressing her face to his hand too. It irritated Gavin for a moment to see his cat welcome this plastic stranger, but the harshness drained from his mood when he saw the gentle curve to Nines' lips. It wasn't a smile, but it was as close as Gavin had seen to one on the bot's stupid face. He gently ran his long, pale fingers over Killer's fur for a moment before pulling away. Again, Killer voiced her displeasure at the sudden lack of attention.

"Huh," Gavin stated, "She doesn't usually like strangers. Thought she had better taste, at any rate."

"If it makes you feel better, Detective," Nines offered, "It's likely that she simply smelled your scent on me."

That took Gavin by surprise. "Why the hell would you smell like me?"

Nines glanced over at him. Gavin hated the way Nines looked him all the time, even though Gavin knew that he had studied the android just as much. The difference, he decided, was that he didn't have a fucking scanner in his head. Gavin's brain wasn’t a computer, so when he looked at Nines, all he knew was what he saw. But he could practically feel Nines analyzing him constantly, measuring his reactions, guessing his thoughts.

"Androids tend to not have a scent, not like humans do. To an animal with sensitive smell, we generally smell like any inanimate object would. Like…plastic." Nines paused, the word seeming to stick to his tongue. "But given my close proximity to you over the course of the day, it is likely that I have picked up your scent."

"Riiight. That's not weird at all," Gavin didn't have any other response. Secretly, it did make him feel better to think that Killer had only warmed to the android so fast because she smelled Gavin on him. But on the flip side, a weird feeling settled in Gavin's stomach at the thought of the android being covered in his scent.

The detective rubbed his face, his exhaustion suddenly washing over him twice as hard as it had earlier. He never could sleep for shit, the few hours he managed to get being plagued by nightmares. It was only through a shit-ton of coffee that he managed to be anything passing alert throughout the day. He decided to just go to bed, hoping, inevitably in vain, that he might get some measure of sleep tonight.

"Look, I'm going to bed." He turned, paused, turned back. "Do you…need anything?"

Nines considred the question. "Could I use your shower?"

"You shower?"

"I don't sweat like humans do, but I'm not immune to dirt." He paused, and added with a wicked tilt to his lips, "Besides, I think I might smell."

"Ha-ha, very fucking funny, asshole," Gavin deadpanned, trying to hide his surprise at the casual teasing. Sure, it was no longer uncommon for Nines to answer Gavin's insults with something equally scathing, but it always balanced on the edge of sharp--and, Gavin reflected, wasn't everything about the android like that? From his jawline to his gaze, to his overt professionalism or the way he analyzed any room he strutted into in. The pricks at Cyberlife had anthropomorphized a fucking knife into android form. Fitting, Gavin supposed.

"Shower's the first door on the left. Towels in the cabinet." He jerked his thumb towards the hallway in a curt gesture before heading down that way himself, Nines right on his heels. When the android peeled silently off into the bathroom, Gavin continued down to the doorway at the very end of the hall. He stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. He heard the water running in the bathroom. He changed into his pajamas, flannel bottoms and a dark t-shirt. It wasn't usually what he wore to bed, but with a strange android with no sense of privacy in his home, he decided that the occasion called for more than just boxers.

He fell face first into bed, not bothering to climb under the blankets. His limbs felt like dead weight, pinning him to the mattress with as much force as exhaustion and gravity could muster. For a while, he just laid there, letting his thoughts slow until his mind was almost empty. All he felt was a dull, constant ache all over his body and the pressing weight of the sleep that he might be lucky enough to get that night. Distantly, he heard the shower turn off. At that moment his senses snapped back to him, and he was wide awake. He swore into his pillow.

The thought that had disturbed Gavin was that the only thing Nines had brought with him were the clothes he was already wearing. They hadn't been stained or dirty, as far as Gavin could tell, and androids were known for only wearing one outfit constantly--particularly Nines, who had already confirmed that the outfit was his only one. Still, the thought felt like an itch in Gavin's mind, one that he couldn't ignore. He had to scratch it. And so he stood up, groaning in annoyance and pain, and fished around in his drawers for something to give Nines. Nines' legs were longer than Gavin's by a fair amount, and so Gavin searched in the very bottom of the dresser, pleased to find something left over by a previous boyfriend who had been about the same height and build as the android. Thin black pajama pants covered in small white skull print and a plain black t-shirt. He chuckled to himself slightly, the thought of Nines wearing them endlessly amusing to him.

He slid into the hallway, pajamas balled between his hands, and stopped when he heard the sound of the android's voice coming from the bathroom. A sliver of light fell into the hallway where the door was slightly open, and Gavin soon realized why as his curiosity dragged him closer.

"It's not very polite to barge in on people," Nines was saying, sounding as though he was trying to be patronizing and failing. Gavin could hear a smile in his voice, and eventually see it on his face as the android came into view through the door. He could also see Killer sitting smugly on the counter between the two sinks, her tail flicking happily as she meowed for attention. It sounded like she was replying. "I suppose you must like the warmth. I do, too." Nines reached out and pet the cat's head, scratching the base of her neck and circling around to the underside of her chin as well.

The entire interaction was so human that Gavin's brain halted for a moment. He took in the sight of Nines' small and hesitant but _genuine_ smile _._ It occurred to Gavin that he had never seen his partner smile the way he was at the moment. It was always tight, courteous smiles, a twitch away from a grimace. Now, it softened his face, crinkling his eyes ever so slightly.

The only thing that was more shocking than Nines' smile was the fact that he was completely naked except for a towel around his waist. Gavin had the briefest moment to wonder if it was for modesty's sake--if there was something down there to cover-- or just an imitation of human behavior. He wondered if it wasn't both. And then his brain stuttered to a halt again, taking in the sight of Nines' perfect chest. With his clothes on, Nines, just like any other android, had seemed lean, strong but not necessarily muscular. Gavin supposed he still wasn't muscular, but whoever had been in charge of designing abs at Cyberlife should be immensely proud of the job he did on Nines. In fact, not for the first time, Gavin realized that everything about Nines' physical appearance should be considered an astounding success. He was fucking gorgeous, with his sharp angles and model-like grace. Gavin had seen sex bots with nothing on Nines.

Gavin made a choking noise as he reined in his thoughts, trying to avoid the path he was going down. Of-fucking-course Nines noticed, and his smile slipped into something more neutral. Gavin tried to play the sound off as him clearing his throat, and he offered up the clothes in his hands as Nines pulled the door fully open.

"I--uh-- you don’t have any other clothes, right?" He hadn't thought anything through, and the full sight of the near naked android was enough to hinder his ability to improvise.

"No, I don’t." Nines confirmed, his gaze flicking down to the proffered ball of fabric before darting back up to Gavin's face, neck crooking slightly. He stared into Gavin's eyes, his own a light, uniform grey. _Fitting,_ Gavin thought. Cold. Metallic. Beautiful.

"Fucking take them," Gavin snapped, breaking his gaze away and shoving the clothes into Nines' chest. He stomped off, realizing a moment too late that he had turned towards the living room rather than his room. He couldn't turn around now and pass Nines again, so he continued on as though that had been his intention all along.

The bathroom door pushed shut with a soft click, and a moment later opened again. Nines emerged, clad in black skull pajamas. Gavin didn't bother to suppress his snicker, but at the same time he had to admit-- Nines made them look good. Gavin slumped onto the couch, realizing a second later that this was also the spot he had specifically assigned Nines. He growled to himself, wishing he hadn't bothered getting out of bed, and wishing even more that he didn't care if he made a fool of himself in front of the android so he could retreat to his room once more.

Nines rounded the other side of the couch and sank into it with far more grace than Gavin had, glancing briefly at the now-on TV before angling his body to openly inspect the detective. Gavin managed to ignore his partner's scrutiny for all of a minute before he began to fidget uncomfortably beneath it.

"Take a fucking picture, why don't you?" He muttered, shooting a glare at the android before immediately having to look away; he hadn't expected the expression that had settled over Nines' smooth features, the upward tilt of his brows and wideness of his eyes, the way he pulled his lower lip between his perfect teeth. The yellow light by his brow assured Gavin that Nines was only studying him intently-- otherwise, Gavin might have thought he was waiting on a kiss. The notion was absurd.

"You've been unexpectedly kind today." Nines said, as if he hadn't heard the quip. Normally, Gavin would have taken such a statement for sarcasm, and responded in kind. But Nines was being serious, and he wasn't wrong. Since the beginning of their partnership two months ago, Gavin couldn't recall having ever done anything outside the line of duty for the android; but it wasn't just because Gavin was an asshole--which he _was_ , as he readily admitted to anyone. Nines simply never needed anything, and Gavin hadn't cared to find out if there was anything he wanted.

"Yeah, well, this is an extenuating circumstance. Don't get used to it."

"I won't."

 

Neither of them spoke again for a while. Killer jumped into Gavin's lap and he absently scratched her head. Nines had turned his gaze to the TV, giving Gavin some relief-- and the freedom to inspect the android in kind. He idly wondered how he would feel if someone actually did kill the prick. It wasn't like they were friends, but-- he certainly wouldn't be happy about it either. As much as Gavin had resented being saddled with the plastic bastard, he didn't really hate him. He felt a thin thread of loyalty connecting them now, strengthening with each case they worked together. Anderson had hated Connor as well, at the beginning, and now they seemed to genuinely care for each other; Gavin wondered if he and Nines would be the same.

No, of course they wouldn't be. Nines may look and sound like Anderson's plastic pet, but they were nothing alike. Gavin didn't think he was like the grizzled old lieutenant either, not in the ways that would count.

And besides, no one wanted to kill Connor anymore.

"Hey, Nines," Gavin asked, keeping his gaze on the TV as he finally gave voice to the nagging question in the back of his mind, "what made you decide that I'm not the one who wants to kill you?"

"The pajamas." He answered simply, and Gavin nodded. Then he fully processed the android's response and his head snapped towards him.  
"What, just then? You mean you still thought I might want to kill you when you agreed to come stay here? What fucking sense does that make? Jesus, I thought you were supposed to bel logical and shit."

"I had decided the probability that you had issued the threat was very low, but could not be certain. However, I was certain that I could defend myself you did try to kill me." Nines explained coolly.

"Fucking asshole," Gavin snapped, not sure why he was angered by the fact that Nines had genuinely thought Gavin might want to kill him all this time.

"This offends you?" Nines tilted his head. "I did not mean to imply that it would not be challenging had you attacked me. It certainly would have been."

"Just shut up, toaster."

"In reality detective, I also did not think you would invest so much time as to stalk me at my home. You were a possibility, but the third furthest one."

Gavin was tempted to ask who were less likely suspects, but common sense told him that it was Connor and Hank. That almost stung, but he took some comfort in the fact that he was still less of a suspect than Fowler.

When Gavin didn't respond, Nines leaned in towards him so that the android had to look slightly upwards to make eye contact. The puppy-dog eyes were not an expression that someone as calculating and frankly prideful as RK900 should have been able to pull off; Gavin couldn't fucking believe it was working. "Detective, I know that my behavior since our partnership has not always been agreeable. I am still learning to navigate human interaction. I--"

Nines leaned back, and looked away, eyes far away now. He didn't seem inclined to finish his thought, but Gavin prodded him, "You what?"

Nines' lips twitched into a small frown. "I did not have much contact with anyone in the Cyberlife Tower, before Connor and Markus woke me."

"What do you mean?" Despite himself, he leaned in slightly, mirroring Nines from just a moment ago. Worst case scenario, Gavin would come away with more material to mock his partner with; best case scenario, the android's ice may start to melt. Gavin wasn't sure why that was his version of the best case, but either way, the distant look on the android's face was enough to pique Gavin's curiosity.

"You already know that I am an upgraded model of Connor. I was meant to replace him, upon his successful completion of his mission. Cyberlife would upload his entire memory to me, and then he would be deactivated and I would become their new… weapon. Until that happened, however, I was confined to a lab within Cyberlife. When not in standby, my interactions with the human technicians were limited. They spoke to me only to give instructions, and I spoke only to answer questions. They ran tests, checked my functions; they pulled me apart and put me back together. None of that required any level of interpersonal interaction. Thus I find my social protocols… _lacking._ "

"Sounds… lonely," Gavin said, inadequately. He tried not to linger on the phrase "pulled apart."

Nines smiled wryly. "It was, although I only know that in hindsight. At the time, it simply _was._ "

He paused, and his smile changed from ironic to something gentler, more honest. Gavin had never seen his smile as often as he had tonight, and certainly never with so much emotion behind it. "Detective, I know I am not an ideal partner. But I believe I am beginning to…appreciate our interactions."

Gavin was floored. He was suddenly certain that he was being fucked with; no way was Mr. "Ten-Times-More-Efficient" seriously suggesting that he actually liked working with Gavin. No-fucking-way. The whole conversation was making Gavin's head hurt; it was like Nines had taken some secret reserve of emotion and was letting it loose now.

"You just like having someone to insult that _probably_ won't deck you." Gavin tried to reel the conversation back to something familiar, unsure how to deal with his partner's sudden earnestness. Avoidance was generally the best option, as far as Gavin was concerned.

"It's hardly my fault that you're such an easy target," Nines' rolled his eyes.

"Says the one who wouldn't even defend himself for his entire first month," Gavin retorted, thinking back to the excessive politeness and compliancy Nines had demonstrated in the first few weeks on the force. It had been so fucking disingenuous, and moreover _annoying_. He hated to admit it, but the android was far more tolerable now that he knew how to bite back.

Nines didn't respond.

"What, sore topic?" Gavin tried again, "I keep forgetting that you're the sensitive type under all that--- _that."_ He made a general gesture, doing his best to sarcastically encompass the android's face in the motion.

Nines, for his part, scoffed and shot the human an unimpressed scowl. After another long moment, Gavin swore he heard him mutter, " _asshole."_ Gavin grinned, jabbing an elbow lightly into the android's ribs. He relaxed into the back of the couch, allowing his thoughts to drift, his attention ostensibly on the TV. If he wanted to have any hope of getting a decent amount of sleep, he would need to go back to bed soon. But he had caught a second wind--or was it now his third?-- and could no longer rely on sheer exhaustion to force him into unconsciousness. He would just end up staring at his ceiling for hours, too tired to sleep and too tired to do anything else. So he stayed put, shifting a sleeping Killer off his lap so he could pull one leg up onto the cushion, knee to his chest. Killer, unhappy with her dethroning, made her way onto a surprised Nines' lap, settling almost instantly into a curled-up ball of black fluff. After a moment's hesitation, Nines laid a gentle hand over the cat.

Gavin smiled to himself and resettled himself into the couch, tired eyes having trouble focusing on the TV--some terrible late-night soap opera. Some things hadn't changed much since he was a kid, and the cheesy dramas were one of them.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Detective?" Gavin didn't open his eyes at the prompt, tried to cling to the last vestiges of sleep that were threatening to leave him. "You risk being late if you don't get up now."

Still, Gavin refused to acknowledge the fact that he was now irreparably awake. His eyes felt too dry to open, his limbs too heavy and warm to lift. The voice didn't persist. He became aware of the hum of his coffee maker, although it was another few minutes before he smelled the drink, heard the liquid splashing into a ceramic mug. Another moment and the scent was right below his nose, steaming up into his face. "Gavin, I know you're awake. Your heartrate and breathing are dead giveaways."

"You asshole. I already told you to stop scanning me." He slowly opened his eyes, lifting an arm to rub the last of his sleep from them. Something slipped off his chest as he did so, and he looked down to see Nines' black-and-white jacket sliding onto his legs.

"I don't need to scan someone to determine their heartrate." Nines was explaining, still patiently holding the mug out to Gavin. He looked up from the jacket to android, confused and too tired to deal with the way the morning light was playing against his smooth skin, making every faint freckle painfully easy to see. He seemed to notice Gavin's expression, explaining, "I didn't think you'd appreciate me snooping through your home to locate a blanket."

Nines' eyes were averted, the only sign of emotion on his face. What really bothered Gavin was _why_. He didn't ask. Instead, he took the mug with a slow grip, his fingers brushing Nines'  in the exchange. "Thanks for not pouring this in my lap," he said grumpily, referring back to the last time the android had offered him a cup of coffee. He thought he saw Nines smirk as stepped away, but he was giving the mug, and its contents, his full attention. It was his favorite one, he noted absently, black with the simple white lettering of the words "Fuck Sleep." Lucky pick on the android's part. Gavin knew exactly where he kept this mug in his cabinet, right next to the white one with a blue paint splatter and the words "Bad Blood." It wasn't the most eloquent anti-android slogan ever, but it was still pretty obvious what it meant.

"I didn't want to risk ruining my jacket." Nines retorted.

"Asshole." Gavin downed the scalding liquid almost at once, knowing he wouldn’t be able to taste anything right for the rest of the day. He didn't wince though, more through sheer willpower than an immunity to heat. Nines looked on, alarm slowly shifting to amusement. Gavin couldn’t help himself; he shot the android a playful wink and was rewarded by the return of that wicked grin and a flash of yellow LED.

Nines was already dressed in his normal outfit: all black button-up, slacks, and tie. The only thing he was missing was the jacket still resting on Gavin's legs. There was something else _off_ with the android's appearance, and it took Gavin a moment to find it. Nines' dark brown hair was usually pushed back, neat, no hair out of place. Now it was not quite unruly, but definitely uncooperative, the strands having dried so that they curled over his forehead and stuck out near his ears. Somehow, the fucker made it work.

Gavin shook his head and got to his feet, stretching out tense muscles and hearing his joints pop. He draped Nines' jacket over the back of the couch; Killer was keeping the android's hands too occupied for Gavin to hand it directly to him. She had perched herself on the corner of the counter between the kitchen and living room, rubbing her head against one of his hand before spinning around and demanding the presence of the other too. The digital clock to the left of the TV read 7:45. Gavin left the cup in the window to the kitchen to wash later and made for the bathroom, glad that the android had woken him up with enough time for a shower. By eight o'clock--technically 7:58-- the pair were out the door, headed to the station. Gavin was tired, not unusual for him, but in a surprisingly good mood. Nines had made another cup of coffee for the drive.

He almost felt guilty when he turned down a side street to let the android out of the car. It was Nines' idea--if whoever wanted Nines dead saw him arrive with Gavin, then it wasn't that far a leap for the bastard to realize that Nines was staying with him-- and they were only a block away from the station, but it still seemed somehow wrong. Gavin decided to just call him a cab tomorrow.

It was lucky, in a sense, that Nines had taken to arriving at a different time every morning. Some days he was right on time; others he arrived up to an hour early or an hour late. Gavin had no clue what the android did on the latter days, or with any of his free time. For all Gavin knew, Nines might just sit and stare at a wall for hours on end. It wouldn't surprise him. At any rate, this erratic behavior meant that nobody thought twice about it when Nines arrived to the office fifteen minutes late, looking like the cover of a formal menswear magazine. Gavin watched his partner stroll into the office as he did every morning, motions fluid and confident.

It was with a jolt that Gavin realized that Nines wasn’t wearing his jacket. It was probably still draped over the back of Gavin's couch, and he had no doubt that Killer had made it into a bed the moment they left the apartment. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below his elbow. When he turned into the bullpen, Gavin realized that his tie was also looser than usual, the knot less professional. Paired with his unkempt hair, the rolled sleeves and lack of jacket added a casual air to his appearance. Made him look…human. He wasn't wearing an armband either-- while the law requiring androids to wear them hadn't yet been repealed, it was going largely unheeded nowadays-- and so the only clue to him being an android was the LED in his temple. Tina, sitting at her own desk nearby, leaned in, getting Gavin's attention with a low whistle.

"What," she muttered, watching Nines approach with as much interest as Gavin, "did he suddenly download a program on how to relax or some shit?"

"Fuck if I know," he answered back, honest. He privately combed through his muddled memories of the morning, and knew that the android had looked as well put-together as always when he had gotten out of Gavin's car. Somewhere in his walk, Nines had clearly decided to go for a new look. It seemed fitting, somehow. Like the change in his outfit was also reflecting some internal change as well. Maybe Gavin was reading too much into it, making too much out of a single instance of abnormal behavior--but he was quickly learning that when it came to his partner, the abnormal behavior was actually the most important. Whatever. Gavin thought Nines looked good, either way.

Nines settled in at his desk with a casual, "Good morning, Detective." Gavin grunted in response, taking a sip of coffee replenished from the breakroom. It was bitterer than the stuff Gavin drank at home, but coffee was coffee. Besides, it was caffeine Gavin needed, not taste.

The pair settled in for work without further conversation. Gavin finally got started on his report of the previous day's fiasco, having been too distracted yesterday to do it. He was sure Nines was already done with his. Words didn't usually come easily to Gavin, but Nines could access the entirety of the English vocabulary at once if he needed to. Probably of every other language too, for that matter. Fucking unfair.

After about an hour--Gavin had moved on from yesterday's report and was working down his list of backlogged paperwork, cursing himself for letting it pile on so much--Nines got his attention with a curt "detective." Nines slid a data pad onto the detectives desk. Swiping through, Gavin found a complete list of all DPD employees, separated into human and android, and a much shorter lists of civilians who had been in the office the day before. Ever thorough, the android had also included the threat and creepy pictures, as well as a summary of the suspected connection with their unsolved case. Gavin felt his frown deepen as he inspected the information.

"We think it's an android, right?" He asked quietly enough that only Nines would be able to hear him. "If it's the same as the other killer, it has to be."

"Yes. The threat they left was too clean. No fingerprints, in the literal or metaphorical sense of the word. Humans tend to leave some sort of trail, no matter how careful." Nines paused as though he was gauging Gavin's reaction. Gavin had experienced a brief flare of injured pride at the statement, which had been quashed when he realized the android was right. Gavin made a good detective because he was able to find those trails, no matter how well hidden, and he didn't even have the processing power of a humanoid supercomputer. He nodded, silently telling the android to continue. "Also, an android employed with the DPD would likely be able to hack the security system and the open the holding cell almost instantaneously."

"Fucking great," Gavin muttered. He scrolled through the android suspects; he hadn't realized there were so many who had returned to the force. "We don't exactly have mental profiles or backgrounds for these guys. What are we looking for here? Do you happen to remember pissing any of them off, by chance?"

"I have had limited interaction with any people here, besides yourself and Connor. Nothing comes to mind that may have offended any of them. If we could establish alibis for them at the time of our murder, we could determine which are suspects and which can be ruled out. However…"

"We can't go around interrogating officers without something more substantial than a coincidence and a gut feeling." Gavin finished for him, feeling increasingly frustrated. He glanced around the office, taking note of the people all around. One of them wanted to kill Nines. Maybe it had been tense at first, but the humans and androids around there were beginning to mesh, working together and socializing as though there were no difference between them. Gavin looked back to his partner. Concern weighed on him, almost unfamiliar. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to worry about someone; he didn't even worry about himself most of the time. " _Fuck._ We don't have anything. All we can do is keep an eye out and hope the prick slips up somewhere."

Nines nodded his agreement, his mouth pulling into the same tense line it had when he first saw the threat. Gavin wondered if he was afraid, but it seemed like the sort of question that would get him an answer that stunk of "technically" true. Nines seemed to deal a lot in half-truths and lies of omission when he wanted to avoid giving a personal answer. He didn't seem comfortable with his own emotions. Gavin was in no place to judge.

With nothing else to discuss, Nines had turned back to his terminal. Gavin kept the data pad, knowing that the android had compiled it for Gavin's benefit rather than his own.

He had to take a break. He stood, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. Nines glanced up from his terminal, watching Gavin with the face the detective had learned to identify as intentionally unreadable. As expressive as the android could be, he also had one hell of a poker face.

"Just getting some more coffee," he muttered, sure the android probably thought he was trying to shirk his duties or cause some sort of scene. Both equally viable options, really. Sure enough, the android's eyes returned to the computer, seemingly satisfied with the response. Gavin was almost past the pair of desks when he turned back suddenly. He was standing to the left of Nines' desk, in a spot where Nines would notice his sudden halt in his peripheral vision. "Do you, ah, need anything?" Gavin offered uncertainly.

Again with the indecipherable expression, although now the LED was spinning solid yellow. After a moment some blue began to flicker in as well, as though Nines were coming to some sort of conclusion, and he said, "I'm a bit low on thirium, actually. If you would just grab a bottle for me while you're there, I'd appreciate it."

"Thirium, got it." Gavin confirmed, turning back to his original objective. He started the coffee maker before opening the cabinet with the blue blood. The shelves were looking pretty empty. There were none of the glass bottles that had been there before, only the plastic bags that looked like the sort used for regular blood transfusions. He grabbed one, noting the plastic cap that held the liquid inside. The coffee was done. Gavin was ready to get back to his desk, mug in one hand and plastic blood bag in the other. Then he stopped again, cursing mildly.

Rolling his eyes at himself even as he set the coffee and thirium on the counter, Gavin opened a different cabinet, revealing rows and rows of various cups and mugs. There were two on the bottom shelf belonging to Gavin, both white, one with the simple black outline of a cat and another with a cartoonish square-headed robot. Both had been gifts. He picked out the robot mug--partially because it was the taller of the two and partially because of-fucking-course he did--and poured the blue blood into it, shoving the hard white cap back into the neck of the bag. Two mugs and half-empty thirium bag in hand, he finally returned to his desk.

Nines was too absorbed in his work to look up until Gavin had taken his seat again, setting his coffee down in its usual spot where he could grab it while focused on his work. Then he shifted the bag onto the edge of Nines' desk and extended the mug towards him. He looked over, LED going yellow again as he reached for the cup.

"There weren't any more bottles," Gavin found himself explaining defensively. "Just the bags."

The corner of Nines' mouth ticked up in amusement as he examined the little robot. His eyes were a bit softer than usual when he looked back at Gavin.

"Because I'll look much less ridiculous drinking out of this than a bag," He honest-to-god chuckled. It was brief, but the deep sound made Gavin's breath catch in his lungs, "Thank you, Gavin."

"No problem, robo-brain." He said dismissively, hoping the android hadn't picked up anything amiss. There it was again. This had to have been at least the third time the Nines had used Gavin's name rather than "detective." Gavin didn't mind, it just surprised him.

Eventually he was able to return his attention to his work, but it was difficult when he kept shooting glances at Nines from the corner of his eyes. The android didn't seem to notice. He took a sip from the mug, a small drop of blue on the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with a thumb.

"Good morning, Detective Reed," came a voice that should have been very familiar. But it wasn't. He hadn't noticed before, but while their voices were the technically the same, the two RK's had very inflections and tones. Connor's was always warm, friendly even, more steeped in emotion. Nines' was cooler, more level, as though he were always talking someone off a ledge. Gavin couldn't figure out why, but he was suddenly very glad he had heard the difference in their voices.

Gavin looked up at Connor, standing by the corner of Nines' desk. Connor had stopped wearing his Cyberlife jacket a few weeks after the revolution (Gavin suspected that much was Hank's doing) and had replaced them with regular grey or blue suit jackets. His hair was combed back, a single strand brushing against his forehead like always. He had never looked as immaculate as Nines had, nor did he look as casual as Nines did at that moment. Gavin thought that Connor must be the mild to Nines' extreme. It made sense in his head.

"Morning." Gavin replied shortly. Connor generally didn't approach him, and Gavin had mostly stopped messing with Connor after Nines had arrived. He concluded that the greeting was only a formality so that the android could speak to Nines without being rude. He turned back to the terminal, but his attention was on the exchange between the two androids.

"How are you, Connor?" Nines asked, turning his chair to face his counterpart.

"I'm good. Been kept occupied by all the cases coming through."

"There is an overwhelming amount of cases involving androids," Nines agreed, "But I like to be kept busy." A pause. "Did you need something?"

Gavin heard Connor hesitate and risked a glance over. Connor was looking right back at him, and Nines followed his gaze.

"I don't mind discussing whatever it is with the detective around, unless it's something personal to you or the lieutenant." Nines said, almost firmly, turning his eyes back to Connor.

"No, it's not about us. I was just…wondering how you're doing."

Nines hesitated. Gavin guessed that he was wishing he had taken the excuse to move the conversation elsewhere. Damned if Gavin was going to get chased away from his own desk to make Nines comfortable, though. He stayed put.

"I'm still not sure where exactly Cyberlife ends and I begin," Nines said finally, "But the boundaries are becoming easier to find. My need for constant stimuli comes from their programming; what I choose to do to satisfy that need comes from mine."

Connor leaned against the edge of Nines' desk, arms braced on either side of him. He was smiling, wide and genuine. Gavin had yet to see Nines smile so overtly. Smirks and the occasional grin aside, Nines' smiles were small and easily extinguished. "I'm glad to hear that. You do seem to be more… you, recently, as far as an outside perspective goes."

"I feel more 'me," as you put it. I see human speech patterns are still influencing you," Nines teased. At least, Gavin thought it was teasing, since Connor shrugged lightly.

"I blame Hank. He's a terrible influence."

Nines made a little _hah_ in his throat, an acknowledgement of humor. It made Gavin wonder what about the robot mug had struck him so much as to make him genuinely laugh, however short it had been.

There were no more words for a long time, but Connor stayed perched against the desk. Nine glance over to see both LEDs spinning solid yellow. Then they both went blue, and Connor widened his smile ever-so-slightly.

"Are you still going to come by for that diagnostic?"

"Maybe. There's some outstanding business that's been occupying most of my time, but I'll let you know whenever I get the chance."

"Okay, then. See you later. And you too, detective."

Connor walked off, back to his own desk. Nines spun around and returned to his work. Gavin tried to do the same, but he was dying of curiosity. He had technically been eavesdropping, he guessed, but Nines obviously knew that Gavin had heard every (spoken) word. So Gavin, without too much consideration. leaned in and lowered his voice so that no one else could hear him.

"That 'outstanding business,'" he began. Nines tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement but wasn't looking at the detective, "You didn't tell him that someone is trying to kill you?"

"No," and, when Gavin clearly wasn't satisfied by the answer, he added, "Connor is prone to undue, occasionally overwhelming worrying. I thought it best to keep this particular issue to myself."

"Wait, you're saying Connor gets _anxious_?" Gavin glanced over at the RK800, squinting as though he would see some physical confirmation. When he looked back, Nines was giving him a warning look.

"Yes, he does, and I would not advise giving him any additional reason to feel stressed."

"Yeah, you guys don't handle stress very well, right?" Gavin earned himself a dark glare. Maybe that one had been a little tasteless; in all honesty, Gavin rarely knew where the lines were even with other humans. "I'm not gonna harass him, okay? Don't get your wires in a twist."

Nines scrutinized him a moment longer and seemed on the verge of saying something when Chris Miller interrupted. Another android had been murdered, and the crime scene was covered in blue blood--far too much for one plastic corpse to provide. Nines' scrutiny turned into something else entirely, something hard and determined. If the murderer really was the same one who had threatened Nines, then their best course of action was to find and stop him before he got to make good on it. Gavin was on his feet in an instant, Nines right behind. They were going to get this bastard. They didn't have a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter marks the return to Nines' pov for a chapter or two.


	7. Chapter 7

Nines watched Gavin drum his fingers against his leg bemusedly. The detective did such frequently, a sign of impatience or boredom. In the case of the latter, Gavin would often times probe Nines for personal information to entertain himself. It didn't bother Nines, since his boundaries were not the same as a human's. Besides, Gavin's questions never visited the topic of emotions; Nines was beginning to learn that the detective was just as private about his feelings as he was, hiding behind anger or mockery. This aversion to feeling was something they shared in common, and it was both reassuring and entirely not so.

"So, this whole look of yours…" Reed began the questioning without preamble, as per usual, although he did seem more hesitant than the past few occasions. Nines suspected it was because the detective was attempting to casually broach the topic of Nines' conversation with Connor earlier. The detective thought the information was supposed to be private; however, Nines knew what he was allowing when he chose to talk in front of the man. Gavin was a good detective, which of course meant he was nosier than he had a right to be. Thus the questions, and thus the listening in.

Gavin didn't finish the question. Nines had a good idea of what he was asking and could have easily answered in a satisfactory manner. He didn't want to.

"What about it?" He asked, badly feigning innocence. Nines could convincingly play dumb if he wanted, but he found the interaction was more stimulating when the detective knew that Nines was being, as the human so elegantly worded it, "a dick."

"Fuck off, you know exactly what I'm asking." The detective glanced over, his face softer than his tone. Nines was beginning to find that to be the case with more and more frequency.

"I'm afraid I don't, actually. While I am able to alter certain aspects of my physical appearance, I have as of yet chosen not to do so." His statement had a double impact. He saw Gavin's exasperation mingle with curiosity as the man side-eyed him.

"What, really?"

Nines accessed his physical settings. After a brief moment of calculation, he decided that a simple change-- his hair color-- would be the least likely to disturb the detective. He felt the change like a small vibration on his scalp as his default brown hair turned blond. He watched the detective, tried to take account of every minute changes in his posture and expression. The detective could be hard to read; there was always something more than what he showed, what he said, something that Nines was not equipped to understand. It was a source of both irritation and intrigue for Nines.

"Huh," Gavin offered in mild surprise, but the creases in his face showed discomfort. "Well, now you just look weird."

Nines frowned and changed his hair back. He temporarily considered darkening it, trying to imagine himself with almost-black hair, and then decided against it. His own appearance was perfectly adequate, he supposed, which was why he hadn't changed anything. If he had looked more like his counterpart he might have considered it, but there were enough physical discrepancies between the two that Nines felt certain a change would be unnecessary. Besides, he was 83% certain that most humans, including the detective, found his appearance appealing. Unbidden, the memory of the night before played itself in Nines' mind, and he remembered the way Gavin's pupils had dilated and his heart beat rose outside the bathroom and for several minutes after that.

"It could be worse," Nines said absently, distracted by his recollection of the detective's blush, "I could look like you."  
"Pfft. Cyberlife wishes they could design something like me." Gavin grinned.

"Cyberlife already has a model for trash collection."

"Oh, fuck you." Nines couldn't repress the smile that pulled automatically at his mouth when the detective laughed, deep and infectious. "Damn whoever programmed you to be a smartass."

"My programming doesn't cover 'smart-assery.' I believe that you're just a bad influence on me, Gavin." Nines felt his processing stutter just a bit. He hadn't intended to use the man's name, didn't think they were at a level where he should. But it felt natural, and he had done it several times now accidentally. Each time was met with a subtle rise in heart rate from the detective, but no other sign that he had even noticed the slip. It didn't help that the phrase he had used mirrored Connor's from before--particularly when everyone was fully aware that the relationship between Connor and his partner was far more than professional. The effect was entirely unintentional, but Nines recognized that it was there.

"I'm flattered," Gavin quipped, drawing the word out sarcastically. Nines paused a moment, allowing Gavin time to bring the conversation back to his original line of inquiry. He seemed to have forgotten how the conversation had started, however, and Nines was glad. Even with seven different explanations lined up to explain why Nines had altered his usual outfit in such a manner, he knew that none of them even touched the truth. Just like the first time he had arrived late to work, and every time after that, all Nines knew was that he had felt compelled to dishevel himself ever so slightly. He _wanted_ to. No rhyme or reason beyond that.

"Why 'Nines?'" He blurted, afraid that if the silence lasted any longer the detective would remember his unanswered question. It was something the android had been curious about since the first time Gavin had used it. He didn't object to the nickname; he was fairly certain that the soft warmth he felt when he heard it meant that he, in fact, _liked_ it. Gavin had used it with increasing frequency around work, and it was beginning to catch on with the other human employees, who seemed to also be growing more comfortable with the android's presence. Nines understood that the nickname humanized him, made him easier to address, to approach. He had never considered the impact a name might have on his relationship with coworkers until Gavin had asked about it. It was an interesting phenomenon, to say the least. "I mean, the origin of the nickname is fairly obvious, but why at all?"

He could see Gavin tense without having to scan him. "I don't know, it just felt weird calling you RK900, and felt weirder not referring to you at all. It's a mouthful and fucking creepy, I just…"

Nines could tell Gavin was getting defensive, which often lent itself to angry, so he quickly interrupted. "I like it."

"I guessed as much when you didn't tell me to knock it off." Gavin muttered. A deep red spread through his face and ears, and Nines noted a general rise in the man's temperature. Nines felt silently glad that he had not yet experienced outright embarrassment, unable to guess how his body would respond to such a feeling. It could be frustrating to not know his own tells, or understand exactly how to show the emotion he wanted to and hide the ones he didn't.

In the following silence, Nines noted cat hair clinging to his pants, black on black. He doubted anyone else would notice. He also saw that one of the knots in Gavin's worn-out laces was coming loose. There was a faded stain on the car's grey carpeting, right between Gavin's feet. Coffee.

"You don't seem to get much sleep." Nines observed. The detective had spent much of the previous night in what seemed like an exhaustion-fueled trance, but still very much awake. Every hour or so he would slip into light slumber, only to wake no more than fifteen minutes later. He hadn't officially fallen asleep until 4:53 that morning.

"M-hm," was all Gavin had to offer in response. Nines waited. Gavin stared out the windshield, eyes trained on the road with forced concentration. "Have a hard time falling asleep and a harder time staying asleep."

"There is medication available--"

"Fuck that. The meds just make the nightmares worse."

"Pre-existing nightmares?"

"Fuck off."

Nines knew there would be no further conversation on the topic. Moreover, he didn't want to push it. The detective's teeth were grinding and he seemed uncomfortable. Nines decided that his own curiosity was not worth Gavin's discomfort--at least, not in this particular instance. He changed the subject.

"Do you think that we'll find any more evidence here than at the last scene?"

"Assuming it's the same guy and not a copy-cat or coincidence? I don't know. Always a chance he slipped up, or something went wrong. We'll have to see it to be sure."

Nines didn't have a stomach, but his body didn't seem to realize that as his insides twisted unpleasantly. It wasn't painful, obviously, but he would prefer to alleviate the feeling as soon as possible. The immediate coldness he had felt upon seeing the threat on his life was still lingering in his chest as he considered the possibility that they would only find more dead ends at this scene. Nines was designed to  be unflappable in the face of anything. Threats of certain death or bodily harm would not have even given him pause so long as it served his purposes-- there had been extensive _testing_ done to make sure of this, memories that Nines could no longer review without feeling a certain level of…discomfort. He recalled that the prototype RK900 before him had deviated under such pressure, but the memory they had uploaded to Nines had been suppressed, in a sense. The emotions were all but gone from it, the memory feeling only like failure.

"Don't worry about it," Gavin had turned now to fully stare at Nines, who quickly became aware that his own face had warped into an unfamiliar expression. "We'll figure this out. Besides, my money's on you if this prick tries to attack you outright." Nines appreciated the attempt at comfort, but between his unpleasant memories and the cold weight inside him, it wasn't working. He tried to rearrange his expression into something less concerning, but the way the detective's face drew tighter was a good indication that he failed. "Is there something else going on in that weird head of yours?"

"Yes. Nothing pertinent to this case."  
"You mean nothing that you wanna talk about." Not a question.

"Yes."

"Well," Gavin said gruffly. It wasn't the angry sort of gruff, but the embarrassed way that meant he was trying to be nice, "if anyone knows about avoiding shit, it's me."

Nines almost didn't recognize the sound that forced its way out of his throat, a bark of wry laughter that had Gavin giving him an unreadable look. "I can believe that. I might need to make use of your expertise, the way I'm going."

"Heh. I am at your service," the man muttered, his tone flippant but eyes serious as he met Nines' gaze.

According to all conventional definitions of the word, Nines had decided that the detective could be considered an attractive man. Although human definitions generally meant very little to Nines, he had to agree, just this once. He liked Gavin's eyes. They were grey, like his own, but somehow deeper. Nines was not sure where he stood on souls. He was fairly certain that he did not have one, but humans? The only proof he saw of that was the life he saw in Gavin's eyes, the way they flashed and darkened with his moods.

Nines hadn't realized how intently he had been studying the man's eyes until Gavin leaned back, gaze tracking to his temple. He hid the yellow of his LED by turning away. There was another emotion in the warmth that moved into his face, the way he wanted to look anywhere but at the detective. A warning popped up: his internal temperature was rising.

"Holy shit," Gavin started laughing, sounding stunned and amused. Nines felt his temperature rise even further. He physically resisted the urge to put a hand to his face, the impulse entirely unfamiliar. Instead, he turned to meet Gavin's gaze again, only to find that the man had his phone held up between them. Nines heard the telling click of the phone's camera feature. His lips parted unbidden, and he heard the sound again. "You--oh my god, I didn't know you could fucking _blush._ You are _never_ going hear the end of this, Nines."

Maybe he took pity on Nines, or he just wanted to show off exactly what sort of blackmail he had just gotten, but Gavin turned the phone around so Nines could see. It was his own face, pale and white and surprised, save for the tinging of blue that spread across his cheeks and nose. He also noticed that the tips of his ears were suffering just the same. The name of his new emotion finally occurred to him: embarrassment. Nines reached for the phone quickly, but Gavin pulled it back, tucking it against his chest. "Oh no you don't! This, my friend, is what we call _leverage._ "

The feeling doubled in intensity and the added howl to Gavin's laughter gave Nines the distinct impression that his blush had darkened as well. He looked away from the picture and away from Gavin's face, which reddened as he laughed even harder. Nines could see where the detective might discern some humor from the situation, but this seemed excessive. Despite the heat and the new type of twisting--just behind his thirium pump, it was a much lighter but no less devastating feeling than the anxiety in his stomach that had just been overwhelmed by the embarrassment-- Nines had to admit that some part of him found Gavin's laughter pleasant. It was louder and more bodily than any of Gavin's other laughs, and Nines filed it away in his memory, a smile touching his lips despite himself.  
"I'm glad you're amused, Gavin." He iced his tone as much as he could, keeping it even and unaffected. The bluish blush still on his face all but negated the effect. With some difficultly, the detective stifled his laughter until it was little more than hiccupping giggles. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and straightened up, still grinning widely.

"Oh, I am _so_ fucking amused right now," He threatened to fall into laughter again before controlling himself with a deep breath. "This is priceless. Everyone thinks you’re totally invulnerable; I'm going to put _this,"_ he flashed the picture at Nines again, then slipped the phone into his jacket pocket when Nines tried to reach for it, "up everywhere I can. I'm totally gonna wallpaper Fowler's whole fucking office with this shit."

Harmless fun, Nines realized, but there was no way he would allow it. He wasn't precisely sure why, but the tug of his embarrassment told him it couldn't happen, under any circumstances.

"You do that," he said coolly, watching Gavin's expression out the corner of his eye. It was a bit of a gamble, but Nines knew that there were only two choices with a high probability of success, and he had too much pride to beg, "and I'll send your search history to everyone with in a five mile radius of the department."

Gavin's jaw dropped disbelievingly. "You can't."

This brought Nines a small thrill. The detective's reaction meant that he _definitely_ had something worth hiding in his internet history. Briefly, Nines entertained the idea of actually checking it, but he decided against it. He had gained too much ground with Gavin to risk losing it all for the sake of discovering some questionable porn taste or something equally inane. "It's as easy as blinking. I could access your history and sent it out in the same heartbeat."

"You wouldn't dare."

Nines smirked and leaned just a little too close to his partner. " _Try. Me._ "

For a brief moment, he thought he had miscalculated. Gavin's face screwed up, his heart rate and temperature raised dramatically, and his whole body tensed. Nines readied himself for Gavin's inevitable punch, trying to decide ahead of time if it would be better to stop the blow or simply bear it. Gavin wouldn't be able to put too much force behind it given the confined space, but every ounce of Nines' coding told him not to take it.

The answer ended up being neither choice, however, as the expected blow never came. Instead, Gavin's face split into a huge grin, crinkling his eyes in a mesmerizing way. "Touché, you fucking dick _._ "

Relief paired with the sight of Gavin's smile coaxed a similar one to Nines' face. He quickly reduced the flow of thirium to his head when he felt the heat returning; if Connor knew about this and didn't warn him, Nines would _murder_ him.

 _Or maybe not,_ he thought, taking in the warmth of Gavin's smile and the sound of his laughter.

"I'm not deleting the pictures, though. Gotta keep you in line somehow."

Nines' smile twisted to one side, mischief mingling with challenge. He raised a single eyebrow for good measure. "Whatever you say… _dipshit._ "

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nines' newfound good spirits drained the moment they reached their destination. It still sat in the back of his mind, the memory unwilling to abandon him completely, but rapidly being overshadowed by the grimness that pervaded the crime scene. It was the first thing Nines noticed, and a shared glance with the detective confirmed that he felt it too.

The reason soon made itself clear; one of the responding officers, an android, met the pair at the entrance to the victim's apartment.

"She was found by the YK500 who lived with her. A human neighbor called it in," he informed them, sounding absolutely miserable. Nines frowned. "They're both in the neighbor's apartment right now, if you want to question them."

"Thank you," Nines responded, and the officer stepped aside to allow them into the victim's apartment.

Gavin shot him a look as they stepped into the threshold.

"YK500?" He asked quietly. Nines would have the man review types of androids when they returned; his hatred of them had left him with a glaring ignorance that was detrimental to his work.

"A child model." Nines replied gravely. This was not the time or place to scold the man.

"Oh. _Fuck._ "

They followed the trail of officers and evidence cards into the kitchen where the body had been found. The kitchen was, much like the rest of the apartment, compact and sparsely furnished. The counter had cabinetry both below and above it in order to maximize space, although Nines doubted they were stocked. While YK500s were equipped with the ability to eat for owners who valued realism over convenience, they didn't need to. Their simulated hunger could be adjusted to follow a meal schedule or turned off entirely.

The body was that of a WR400-- a "Traci" model android, although a brief scan told Nines that she had re-registered herself as Lottie-- propped up against the thermofoil cabinets, her back in the corner. Like the other victim, she had no clothes, although her modesty was preserved with the strategically poured thirium. The unused stove directly to her left had been left open.

"Sick fuck," Gavin growled, leaning over to look inside. Nines followed behind him, finding the oven full of the android's internal "organs." Clear tubing, wires, and various biocomponents were piled on the oven rack, her thirium pump placed on top.

"This is…escalation." Nines observed, noticing the return of the cold weight that the drive with Gavin had alleviated.

"No fucking shit." The detective squatted by the body. He likely would have kneeled had the linoleum floor not been slick with a pool of blue blood, but it was. So too were the upper row of cabinets covered, steady streams of blue dripping onto the countertop below. "I don't see any signs of trauma, like last time."

Nines took up a similar position on the other side of the body, scanning it again. Gavin was right; Nines would have to examine the body to be sure, but the lack of any injury to the android's synthetic skin meant that she had likely been shut down in the same manner as the other victim. He met Gavin's gaze over the body.

"How'd he get the organs out?" He asked, eyes flicking to the oven. Perhaps Nines was misdiagnosing his expression, but he was 73% sure that Gavin seemed disturbed. Far more so than he had been at any previous android-centric crime scene.

Rather than answer, Nines reached out and placed a hand on her stomach, deactivating his skin up to the wrist. Although the Traci--Lottie-- was unmistakably dead, her skin retracted in response to his touch. He slid her torso panel open, revealing the hollowed cavity inside her. Gavin blanched.

"It's really that easy to open you up like that?" He asked, sounding distant. His eyes were fixed on the panel as Nines allowed it to close again.

"It's not exactly easy to do this to an active android," Nines explained, watching the detective's face closely. Perhaps it was the involvement of the YK500 that had affected him so much, but it worried Nines, "but, yes, accessing our internal components is not difficult, for maintenance purposes."

Gavin ran a hand over his mouth and stood up, turning away from the body to inspect the rest of the kitchen. "Do you see anything?"

"Nothing. No fingerprints, no DNA. And I highly doubt we'd be able to reactivate her, either."

"Any chance we could trace the thirium?"

Nines stood up. "None. All thirium is produced at Cyberlife, but individual units do not bear serial numbers or other identifiers."  
"Why the fuck not?" Gavin asked, exasperation clear in his tone.

"There's never been a need to keep track of it. Besides, the thirium itself is untraceable until it's been cycled through an android's system, at which point it becomes imbued with their model and serial number." Nines took another look around the kitchen. It was small enough that he could scan the entire room from his position in the center of it, spinning in place to take in every inch of the room. _There._

On its own, a cabinet door left slightly ajar wouldn't be enough to arouse suspicion. But every other cabinet in the room was firmly shut, and the ones not covered in blood were lightly coated in dust. Dust which had been disturbed on one single silver knob. The cabinet in question was the furthest one to the right, nearest the door. There was no blood that far out, no reason for anyone to pay attention to it. That's why Nines was unsurprised when he pulled the cabinet door open to reveal the number "9" scrawled on the back of it. The only other thing in the cabinet was another data pad.

Gavin appeared at Nines' shoulder, laying a hand on it as he leaned in to inspect the data pad that Nines had already begun scanning through. The area of contact radiated warmth, even as the rest of Nines had gone cold. There were more pictures of himself, taken without his noticing. Not that such a feat would be difficult; androids recorded everything they saw. All the suspect would have to do is look at Nines to get these images. Nines saw himself leaving the precinct, at an office supply store (it had been the retro sort, still selling physical notebooks and pens instead of data pads and memory drives. The owner still had anti-android slogans posted at the storefront and near the register and she glared daggers at Nines, but she took his money nonetheless. Nines wasn't sure whether such behavior counted as hypocrisy or practicality. He also didn't care.), and again outside his apartment complex. This time, however, a short video clip was included. It was a brief video of Nines greeting Connor at the door to his apartment, inside the complex. The video was taken from quite a ways down the hallway; Nines suspected the man had not left the stairwell, given the angle and the grey walls framing the shot. Still, the video startled him immensely. Only tenants were allowed into the building through the use of an old-fashioned scan card. Either the suspect lived in the same apartment complex--which Nines doubted-- or he had found a way in. Key card or not, the building wasn't exactly the fortress Nines wished it was.

"These were taken three days before I received the first data pad." Nines observed, falsely calm. Sometimes he really could appreciate Cyberlife's protocols, such as the one that dictated he not outwardly react to stressful situations. He was designed to keep his cool, and that proved to be serving him well.

"No. Fuck that," Gavin stepped back, removing his hand from Nines' shoulder. Nines wished he hadn't. "Fuck this guy."

"Agreed."

"That's so fucking creepy."

Nines did not want to discuss exactly how creepy it was; nor did he want to discuss the fact that the person threatening him had been so close to him and someone he cared about. Nines especially did not want to consider the fact that Connor might also become a target.

"We should question the YK500 and the neighbor." He said, instead.

"Yeah," Gavin nodded, stepped aside for Nines to leave first. Nines complied; he heard a cabinet door shut behind him.

The elderly woman in the next apartment over seemed distressed but coherent, introducing herself as Madilyn. Her eyes were red and swollen and she still remained on the verge of tears, but despite the quiver in her voice, she answered every question they asked with eagerness. She seemed to genuinely want to help them find the killer. The YK500, registered as Jessica, leaned against the woman's side as they sat together on the couch, and Madilyn pet her hair in a maternally comforting manner. Nines and Gavin were seated in arm chairs that sat opposite of the couch. The living room had no TV, Nines noted immediately, nor any electronics of any kind. The coffee table between the couch and the armchairs contained books of puzzles and poetry. This confused Nines to some degree; a complete lack of electronics generally indicated that the subject would also bear some form of prejudice towards androids. When prompted about her feelings on them, she didn't so much as hesitate.

"Oh, I was never fond of androids, back when they were just fancy houseware. No offense, dear," the last part was directed at Nines. She lightly squeezed the arm around Jessica's shoulder in a fond manner, "But now, you're all free; you're people, capable of thinking and doing whatever you want. And Lottie, she was a good woman. Took care of Jessica, helped out when my arthritis was acting up. She was a sweetheart, I can't imagine anyone who knew her could do something like this." The tears began to roll down her wrinkled cheeks and she sniffled. Gavin picked up a tissue box off the coffee table and held it out to her helpfully.

"Did you notice anything strange, last night? Around nine p.m., or maybe even before then?" Gavin asked gently as Madilyn dried her eyes and nose with two separate tissues.

"Oh no, I go to sleep by eight. I didn't hear anything, and I certainly didn't see anything. Not until Jessie knocked on my door this morning."

The YK500, for her part, was crying silently, her eyes glued to the floor. Every so often a sob would rack her small frame, but she did her best to keep herself under control. Her sleeves around the wrists were soaked from what Nines analyzed to be several hours' worth of tears-- technically, it was a thirium-based optical cleanser stored within an android's eye-socket. Child androids were the only type actually designed to cry, but that didn't stop deviants of all models from being able to do so. Much like with the spontaneously deactivating trackers, no one was sure why deviating allowed androids to cry, but it did. Signals not unlike human sadness caused the fluid reserve to overflow. It was surprising that the child had not literally run out of tears by this point.

Nines moved from the armchair to kneel directly in front of the couch. He held out a  hand, allowing the skin to slowly retract. Jessica hesitated, eying him warily. Child androids were an anomaly as far as androids went; they were supposed to be able to simulate the full human range of emotions even without deviating, although such emotions as anger or sadness could simply be toggled off pre-deviation. Now, however, Jessie could not turn off her own sadness, or fear, and her mistrust in Nines was perfectly reasonable.

"It's okay," he reassured her, his voice gentle. He tried to emulate Connor's tone when he had first woken Nines up, soft and careful. Warmth cutting through the cold silence. "My partner and I are going to find who did this, and they won't be able to hurt anyone else."

The child nodded her understanding and offered her tiny hand to Nines. The skin faded away from her arm as well, and Nines was quick enough to access her memory of last night before any of his own memories managed to slip through. He could comb through it later, when he had time to focus all his attention on the task. For now, he pulled his arm back and, after patting the child on the head for no reason other than that he thought he should, was ready to take his leave.

"Can Jessica stay with you for a while longer, until one of the caretakers at the Jericho House can come get her?" He asked Madilyn, and she nodded emphatically.

"Yes, of course! Jessie is more than welcome to stay with me for as long as need be."

"It should only be for another hour or so," Nines assured her. The last of the cleanup crew would likely still be there by the time someone arrived to pick up the girl. "Thank you for your time. And… I'm sorry, for your loss."

 

"That was…useful?" Gavin muttered uncertainly as they left the apartment. Nines was barely listening, instead concentrating on contacting the head of Jericho House. While Markus and Simon were in D.C., Josh was the sole operator of the android shelter. Josh and Nines had not had much contact with each other, particularly not after Nines moved from Jericho to his own apartment. Still, his impression of the man had been that of one who genuinely wanted to help his people, in any capacity. He was compassionate and capable, and Nines trusted that he and all the occupants of Jericho House would take care of Jessica. Nines gave Josh the brief version of events, Josh assured him that someone would be there to pick Jessica up within the hour, and that was that. Nines was glad; he was not in the mood for lengthy conversations or small talk alike…a fact that the detective was clearly not attuned to.

Like clockwork, Gavin began probing for information the moment the car had pulled itself onto the road. "The Jericho House? That like a half-way house or some shit?"

Nines searched up the phrase before answering shortly. "In a sense. I believe it would technically be classified as a shelter."

"Why's it called that?" Nines shot Gavin a sideways look. He was looking down at his lap, scrolling through a data pad that Nines hadn't seen him retrieve. It was the information that Nines had compiled about the case--about his case. Gavin was scrolling through the list of android officers, occasionally pulling up the full description of one or the other, seemingly at random. There wasn't much to put in the description boxes for each androids, often consisting of only their name, model and serial numbers, and their history with the DPD. Seeing the file and it's sparse contents irritated Nines further.

"Didn't keep up with the news during the revolution, did you?" He guessed, trying to keep his tone disinterested.

"Nah, not really. Not until the very end, the final demonstration at Hart Plaza."

"The FBI raided an abandoned freighter, _the Jericho_ , where the deviants had been hidden previously. Jericho House gets its name from there, and is operated by one of the original Jericho's leaders."

"Huh." Gavin responded, and Nines didn't think he had been listening. He curled the fingers of his right hand up one by one until he could feel the artificial nails against his palm. "At least we know for sure it's the same person now. We still don't have any definitive proof that this guy is inside the department, though."

"I'm aware, detective." Nines forced through gritted teeth, turning his gaze resolutely out the window so he didn't have to watch Reed scan through the list of androids _again._ He had gotten used to irritation, but had never had to deal with annoyance, worry, and the added to the desire to tear someone's throat out all at once. The detective had nothing to do with the feelings that made Nines want to scream, to lash out and cause a fight, to do _anything_ to alleviate the tension that had settled just behind the thirium pump regulator in his chest. He tightened his right fist until the nails dug into his artificial skin--he could not physically feel pain, but the pressure was a small comfort-- and lifted his left hand to the regulator. With his skin still active, the small circle that was the top of the regulator was undistinguishable from the rest of his chest by sight or touch, but he still rubbed at it with the tips of his fingers.  
"What's wrong?" The concern in the detective's voice was easily detected, and in Nines' peripheral he saw the man's face turn towards him.

"Nothing." Nines snapped. _That was unconvincing,_ he thought to himself, experiencing another spike in temperature. The detective didn't respond and didn't look away, and Nines knew he had to give a better answer. "I am… _frustrated._ " He all but growled the word, hating to admit it but well aware that it would be the quickest way to end the conversation. The confession was like opening a dam, and suddenly all the tightness in his chest forced itself into his throat. He found himself elaborating in a tone that was no louder than normal, but had the force of all his repressed feelings behind it. "I want to find whoever is murdering these androids, and we've got nothing to go on. I want to go to my apartment, be safe in my own home where I can process and compartmentalize all these _fucking emotions,_ but I can't because the same fucker that we are no closer to catching wants to kill me too. I want a lot of things right now, detective, and I can't seem to have any of them and _fuck_ if it isn't going to drive me insane."

Gavin let out a long breath. It wasn't quite a sigh, more like the sound of his own tension leaving him following Nines' outburst. "Alright then." Was all he said, leaning forward to adjust the GPS's destination. He leaned back again in silence, and the car took the next right turn, away from the station.

"Where are we going?" Nines finally asked, when it became clear that Gavin was not going to offer the information up without being pressed. The grin in his voice was not reassuring, but very, very intriguing.

"To get into a fight."


	8. Chapter 8

The car parked itself outside a small, squat building. The windows were barred and blacked-out, the word "Matchbox" painted largely across the beige building front so that the door separated the syllables. Nines assumed it was the name of the bar, whose parking lot was full despite being two in the afternoon.

Gavin stayed in his seat, lacing his hands behind his head. He was eying the front of the building as he spoke, looking mostly detached. "Matchbox isn't a good place for androids to be. Most the guys who drink here lost their jobs to androids, and things have only gotten worse since the revolution. It's an android-related crime hotspot; hell, it had a reputation even before assaulting androids was illegal."

Nines pursed his lips slightly as he scanned the parking lot--this time noticing a large variety of anti-android bumper stickers--and took note of the "No Androids" sign pinned to the door. "Androids: Enter at your own risk" was scrawled just beneath it. He didn't say anything, just felt the heat in his stomach and repressed the thought that Gavin was trying to get him killed. He didn't believe the latter, not anymore. Something had shifted in their partnership, and although Nines could not trace the feeling to any logical origin, he had begun to trust the detective.

"We walk in there and you won't even have to try to get into a fight," Gavin added, "It'd be self-defense at that point."

The amount of thought the detective had given this didn't strike Nines as odd in the least; Gavin was a smart man, and a capable detective. He had to be detail-oriented by nature. Besides, Nines suspected that the detective had previously been familiar with the bar in an entirely different way. Nines' fingers twitched, his programming already preparing itself for the anticipated combat, but a new worry gave him pause. "This could be very hazardous for you, detective."

"For you too, dipshit." Gavin chuckled. The sound was low and dangerous. "I know you're some specially-designed badass, but I'd put money on the fact that a pissed off human with a barstool is just as much a problem for you as it is for me."

Nines didn't want to argue the fact that he could process and pre-construct a situation in a single moment, had been specifically designed with combat maneuverability in mind; he didn't not want to argue that most of his parts were replaceable with few fatal exceptions, and that humans were prone to permanent damage. The detective was perfectly capable of deciding what risks he was willing to take and which ones he was not, and Nines needed to hit something. His thirium pump thudded once for good measure, and he was out the car in a quick motion. He head Gavin's same dark chuckle follow him all the way from the car to the entrance.

"Got your back," Gavin muttered as the door swung open. Nines believed him. "Just let them take the first swing."

Nines had to manually adjust his vision to see the heads that swung up to glare at the sunshine that pierced the bar's gloomy interior lighting. He did a quick scan of the room, out of habit and preparation. Bar along the left wall, booths along the right and back wall. A pool table in the center of the place, and a few square wooden tables scattered intermittently throughout. There were approximately a dozen people, possibly more obscured by the angle of the booths or in the bathroom. Most of the bar's occupants were men, although there were some women present. The bartender seemed to fit every cliché Nines could find for bartenders in this sort of place; portly and of a ruddy complexion partially hidden behind a few days' worth of whiskers, exactly six foot tall and with a scowl that put Gavin's to shame. He turned this scowl in their direction. The door now closed behind them, it was easy to see that almost every head had turned to size up the intruding android, the few morose conversations that had been taking place falling to silence and then being replace by threatening whispers passed between the patrons. Gavin pushed casually forward, leading Nines to the bar without touching him. They took each took a seat on the uneven barstools.

 "What the fuck are you doing, Reed?" The bartended demanded in a deep, husky voice. It was more of a warning than an actual question, but Gavin answered, as careless as ever.

"Getting a drink," his casual tone was undercut by the sharp twist to his grin and the way his gaze flashed left and right. Nines, for his part, had arranged his face into one of detached contempt; it wasn't difficult. The bartender shot him a glare, the sort that might have been a deterrent to anyone who hadn't already primed their combat programs and was _itching_ to put their fist in someone's face. He didn't fidget except to curl and uncurl the hand hidden in his lap, but he was so tightly wound that he knew he would snap at any moment. "Unless that's gonna be a problem, Rufus."

"You know damn well it's a problem, prick. Get that fucking thing out of here."

"Why would I do that? He's buying my drink." Gavin offered Nines a sly wink. Nines tried not to grin, anticipation prickling under his skin. Feet on the ground, only barely sitting, he was ready for anything. Maybe starting a brawl was reckless; maybe it wasn't what a detective or an android should be doing with his time. Connor would disapprove, would tell him that there are other ways to deal with these overwhelming emotions than causing bodily harm. But, with Gavin still smiling recklessly and the thrill of a fight making his limbs hum with energy, Nines thought that this was _exactly_ what he needed.

The detective's cavalier expression didn't exactly slip, but it hardened around the edges in warning. There was the sound of glass being set against wood. Nines turned to see a man approaching on his right, laying a large hand on his shoulder. The scarred knuckles turned white at how hard he squeezed Nines. "C'mon, Reed. You leave now and this won't have to get ugly…for you."

"Uh-huh." Gavin eyed him skeptically. "And my partner?"  
Nines stared forward, at the bartender, so he could keep both Gavin and the large man in his peripheral vision. He readied himself imperceptibly, preparing to grab the half-empty beer bottle the man had left within arm's reach on the counter and smash it into his face the moment he made a move. Nines' fingers twitched as he felt the ones on his shoulder exert even more pressure.

"You can come get what's left of your sexbot later. We might even leave it in one piece for ya."

Gavin stood up slowly, nonthreateningly, wide grin still in place. "Well, if that's how it is…" He said, before suddenly turning and slamming his fist over Nines' head and into the man's face. The man staggered back a step, immediately letting Nines go in order to put a hand to his already bloody nose.

 _So much for letting him swing first,_ Nines thought as he shot gracefully to his feet, the barstool tipping over behind him. He turned to face the man, waiting for him to recover. Gavin started swearing at someone. Nines heard flesh hitting flesh and grunting behind him, but before he could turn to intervene, the now-enraged man lunged forward. He swiped at Nines, who had been prepared and dodged under the clumsy blow, hand wrapping around the cold bottle as he brought it around towards the man's head. Luck or reflex caused the man's arm to intercept the swing, and the bottle shattered between Nines' palm and the man's forearm, cutting them both. The laceration warning in his vision was less obstructive than others would be, his combat protocols minimizing distractions to only what is necessary.

While Nines' bleeding left hand held the man's arm in a vise-like grip, his other fist pulled back to slam into the bastard's nose. If Gavin hadn't broken it with his punch, Nines certainly did. The man recoiled and Nines released his arm, allowing him to stumble back, red-faced and bloody-nosed.

" _Fuck!_ " Came Gavin's shout from behind, the word thick with pain. Nines spun on his heel. A balding, six-foot man had grabbed Gavin's arms from behind and was wrenching them behind his back while a younger man with a bloody lip slammed a fist into his gut. The air blew out of Gavin in a choked rush, and the guy pulled back for another blow. Nines closed the distance between them in two long strides and grabbed the man's wrist, twisting his arm behind his back until he began to yell. The man, flailing desperately, slammed his head back hard enough into Nines' face that several new warnings appeared at once. He felt thirium leaking onto his face. He let the man's arm go and planted a heavy kick into his back as retaliation.   
Gavin was back on his feet-- the balding man had probably dropped him to rescue his companion, not expecting Gavin to recover so quickly-- and he got in one more punch before the sound of a gun pumping pierced the chaos of the fight. It was the bartender, unsurprisingly. He had circled around the bar to aim directly at Nines. The shotgun he held looked old enough that it couldn't possibly be safe to fire, but it also seemed well enough cared for that it must have been. "Get out. Both of you get out before this gets messier."

Nines should have been relieved that the bartender hadn't simply shot him without warning, but he didn't feel "done."  So instead of complying, he shoved his hands out, forcing the barrel of the gun towards the ceiling. It fired deafeningly loud and plastered rained down on their heads. Grip tight on the gun, he kicked the bartender in the stomach and tore it from his grasp. Then he turned the gun on the bartender.   
The room held its collective breath. Gavin, for whatever reason, did not try to intervene. Nines appreciated it. He levelled the barrel with the bartenders' face, wide with surprise and fear. He stood like that for a long moment. Then he spun, arms dropping to his side. He strode out of the building without a word or look back, allowing the gun to clatter dangerously to the floor as he stepped into the sunlight. He allowed it to blind him for a moment before his vision adjusted itself automatically.

"Let's not hang around," Gavin said behind him, panting still. "The rest of those guys might not want to let us off so easy."

Nines saw no reason to argue. They got into the car in a hurry, Gavin slamming the "home" setting on its GPS, and they sat in heavy silence for a long few minutes. The pair were a mess, blood streaming down their faces and knuckles. Nines' palm was sliced far worse than he had anticipated; he held it over his lap to avoid staining the car's grey interior. Gavin had a bruise forming under his eye already, but it wasn't too badly swollen yet. Nines might have felt guilty had the detective not still had a smile on his face; his bloodied teeth made the expression almost gruesome, but no less reassuring.

Nines laughed shortly, humorless and dry, taking in the mess that was his partner. It was a stupid, reckless thing they had just done; Gavin had been right, it was exactly what he needed. The tightly wound feeling had given way to something looser. He hadn't realized that his own stress level had spiked so high until he felt the relief of it receding. "I feel better."

Gavin's laugh mirrored Nines' as he replied. "Like I said: when it comes to unhealthy coping mechanisms, I'm the best at it."

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

The detective offered him a wider smiled and leaned back against his seat. He seemed exhausted, the thrill passing with each mile. Perhaps Gavin would actually get a decent amount of sleep that night.

"Did you go there often?" Nines probed, not caring either way. It simply felt weird to allow the silence to linger on any longer. He was getting used to Gavin breaking it.

"Nah," The detective lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture. "I mean, a handful of times, but it wasn't my most frequent haunt. And it's starting to look like I won't be going back."

"Tragic."

"Oh, yeah," Gavin snorted, "I'll definitely miss the drinking buddies." He ran a hand over his eyes and yawned.

They stopped talking again. Nines waited through the quiet this time, until the detective's breathing and heartrate slowed to an even pace. According to the GPS, it was only twenty more minutes to Gavin's apartment, but he would let the detective get whatever rest he could. Nines leaned his own head back against the seat and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. He couldn't sleep, but he could allow himself to relax. It was only for twenty minutes, after all. 


	9. Chapter 9

Gavin did not wake up when the car parked itself in its designated spot outside the apartment complex. Nines knew that humans were prone to soreness if they slept in uncomfortable positions--and judging from the way Gavin habitually has to stretch out his back and legs after lengthy car rides, sleeping in his seat would likely qualify as uncomfortable. He reached a hand out to touch the detective's arm, mouth opening to say something, but he froze. A series of memories played themselves out in Nines' head, culminating with a perfect recollection of the man's voice: _Have a hard time falling asleep and harder time staying asleep._

Nines pulled back the hand that had been hovering an inch away from the detective's arm and leaned back into his seat. The peace he had been feeling hadn't yet faded; he didn't mind sitting there a little while longer. His programming pulled at him, told him to wake the detective and go inside, as was logical. But he didn't want that. Headed tilted back once more, Nines distracted himself by researching ways to alleviate sore muscles. Between the fight and the sleeping position, Nines was relatively certain that Gavin would feel no small amount of discomfort when he woke. A small smile touched at his face; caffeine was listed as one of the substances that help to relieve muscle soreness. That would thrill Gavin, who already tossed down scalding hot coffee like it was water. Upon reviewing the memory of _that_ particular incident, Nines became 67% certain that Gavin had only done so to fuck with him. The wink, he decided, was highly incriminating.

The apartment building loomed up above, looking so normal. It was a simple building, three stories high and perfectly rectangular, except that the exterior stairway wound up the middle of the building, dividing it in two. The building's white paint had dulled into a light shade of grey, the black railing on the stairs and upper hallway rusted in places, but the flower beds separating the parking lot and building were perfectly tended to. It looked respectable, but not posh. A bit like an old floral couch, Nines decided as he scanned through electronic home décor magazines, trying to find the proper comparison. It looked cozy, if a bit run-down, but it still had all the makings of a nice place.

It was also terribly unsecure. Nines programming roared to the front of his mind all at once. There was nothing blocking the staircase, no gate around the building itself. Even the three locks on Gavin's front door would do little to stop a determined assailant from getting in. Stronger than a simple "want," the desire to be at his own apartment tore at the space behind Nines' regulator. He longed for it, the protection it offered with its key-card locks and door far heavier than Gavin's. Then, with a sickened lurch, Nines remembered that his apartment wasn't really safe anymore. That's why he was here, of course. Staying with Gavin, that is, not sitting in a car. A car which was rapidly beginning to feel exposed.

With an unnecessary sigh that he didn't bother to repress, Nines heeded the tug of his programming. He laid a light hand on the sleeping detective's shoulder. "Detective? We've arrived."

Heaving a tired groan-turned-sigh, the detective rubbed his eyes and sat more upright in his seat. "Huh? Oh."

Nines shifted uncomfortably when the detective's tired gaze turned on him. He wasn't sure how aware Gavin was at the moment, but he felt the threat of embarrassment as he got caught in the hazy grey of the human's eyes. Nines intentionally slowed his thirium pump to avoid unnecessary thirium flow to his head, earning himself an internal systems warning. Gavin's gaze tracked slowly away from Nines, towards the clock in the car's dashboard display. "Jesus, how long've we been sitting here?"

"Thirty-two minutes."

Gavin grunted acknowledgement and stepped unsteadily out of the car, leaning against the side for a few seconds after closing the door. Nines watched him stagger a few exhausted steps towards the stairs, getting steadier as his muscles got used to whatever soreness they were already experiencing. There were many human things that Nines did not envy, and pain and exhaustion were at the top of that list. Gavin didn't seem to notice that Nines had not yet left the car, continuing shakily up the stairs without hesitation. 

Despite the fact that he had only woken the detective up due to his own discomfort sitting in the car, Nines was hesitant to get out. Getting out would mean following his partner up to the apartment, spending another night trying to put together the puzzle that was his relationship with the detective. Were they friends? Nines hadn't thought so, but it was getting more difficult to be certain. It might have been helpful if Nines had any friends at all to judge by, but  he didn't. _Connor withstanding,_ he corrected himself, but his relationship with his predecessor was…atypical, even as far as android friendships went. There was no comparison.

Although Nines could never truly have a subconscious action, perfectly aware of every task and impulse he was running at once, he often gave priority to one processor over the rest. This meant that he wasn't entirely surprised when he found himself in the process of calling a taxi to come get him, but the action had been more or less lost beneath the thoughts occupying the forefront of his mind. He cancelled the cab order somewhat grudgingly. Only two days away from his own apartment and Nines was beginning to experience what he could only term as homesickness. He knew the feeling had more to do with being out of place and unsafe than with actually missing his apartment, but that didn't dull the sting of it.

The knuckles on the back of his right hand were still coated in blue; it would take several more hours for the thirium to evaporate. Nines would still be able to see it, of course. Nines sighed again, an unnecessary sound for someone without lungs, but one that he found he was doing quite a bit of.

Gavin was already inside his apartment by the time Nines made his way up, but he had left the door open an inch. For Nines? Or had he simply been too tired and in too much pain to realize he hadn't shut it? Nines doubted the latter, but the former seemed almost as unbelievable. Not that it really mattered as Nines slipped into the entry way, locking the door firmly behind him.

While all androids could detect heat and cold, most models could not _feel_ it without some form of modification. The exception to this rule were YK500s and RK900 himself. For reasons that Nines with all his advanced processing and logical abilities could not fathom, Cyberlife had decided to programmed him to experience temperatures realistically. Of course Nines _could_ turn the setting off…but he didn't want to. Especially not when he walked into Gavin's apartment, considerably warmer than it had been the previous night, the heat seeming to settle over his skin and around his internal components in an extremely pleasant way. Being warm had been one of the first items Nines had added to his list of likes. It wasn't a terribly long list: Being warm, insults, cats, nosy RK800s who meant well, the color black, and ink pens. _And Gavin._ He wished he hadn't thought it.

The shower was running already. Nines scanned Gavin's apartment again, just as he had the night before. The kitchen still had several plates and mugs left in the sink, although a quick scan told Nines that the dishwasher was perfectly functional. Gavin's coffee maker was old and low-tech, not at all like the one at the station, and the pot still held traces of that morning's coffee. The TV had recently been turned on to the news, likely just for the background noise. The shelves around it boasted a mix of data pads and real books, the latter of which most interested Nines. There were also more than a few notebooks, an entire shelf dedicated solely to them. The detective's brown leather jacket had been left over the far arm of the couch, and the hoodie he wore underneath it was draped beside Nines' own jacket on the back of the couch. The white fabric panels of Nines' jacket were properly coated in a layer of black fur. This did not bother Nines. There was a lint roller on top of the detective's fridge, as well as one in the glove compartment of his car and the top drawer of his desk.

Nines wandered over to the shelves around the TV, pausing to pat Killer's head as she meowed at him from the kitchen window. Killer was demanding, and loud, and terribly endearing. Nines ignored the obvious comparison to her owner. Most of the books on the shelves had to do with crime; true crime novels, murder-mysteries, criminal psychology books. There were also more than a few books involving the supernatural. Nines had observed no sign of the detective being superstitious. It was far more likely that he simply enjoyed tales of the paranormal than that he believed in it. Long, blood smeared fingers reached for a book at random, but Nines changed his mind, turning his attention instead towards the shelf stacked with notebooks. They were a variety of styles, some plain black and spiral-bound, some composition books. Some were barely bound at all, the pages threatening to spill out of the battered paper covers. Nines listened to the sound of the still-running water as he picked out an unassuming spiral-bound notebook and flipped through it. Cyberlife _had_ given Nines the android equivalent of a moral compass; unfortunately, the company's idea of "good" was whatever helped Nines accomplish his mission. He knew that humans considered prying through someone's person belongings to be invasive and wrong; but Nines all but shrugged as he kept listening for the water to shut off, analyzing the drawings that covered every page of the notebook. They were very realistic, even if the subject of the drawings were fantastical. A black and white sketch of a man, his eyes closed and mouth curled into a peaceful smile even as something dark and oozing dripped from each orifice; a cat with three eyes and two tails, sitting in a field of dark purple flowers; a sketch of Killer on the kitchen counter, sharp teeth exposed in a silent meow. An image constructed itself in Nines' mind of the detective bowed over the notebook, mouth twisted in the same look of concentration he wore while working a case, ink spreading across a blank page. He silently stored it away, and put the notebook back. The shower had shut off.

Nines was leaning against the counter, back to the TV, fingertips working their way through Killer's fur as Gavin stepped out of the bathroom, one towel around his waist and another in his hand, ruffling his hair dry. "All yours." He said, turning down the hall towards what Nines' assumed was his bedroom.

Nines stepped into the steamy bathroom. The mirror was impossible to see into, despite signs that Gavin had just recently wiped away the condensation. Nines wondered if Gavin had run the hot water out, but was pleased to find that he hadn't. Turning the water up to where it was almost unbearably hot, even for him, he watched the trails of blue that washed down his body and into the drain with idle fascination. A system check told him that his thirium levels were low; not so much that it would be cause problems, but enough that his skin would not reactivate in the places it had been damaged. That was unfortunate. The detective walking into work bruised would have been unlikely to draw too much attention, given the man's disciplinary record and general personality. For Nines to stroll in with the android equivalent of bruising as well would bring considerably more scrutiny. He wondered what the rumors might be; would they even consider that the pair had gotten into a fight _together,_ or would everyone assume that they had done this to each other? What would the detective say when questioned? The curiosity almost outweighed his reluctance to find out.

On the bright side, perhaps whoever was threatening him would believe that he and Gavin _had_ gotten into a physical altercation, further ensuring that he would not search for Nines at the detective's apartment.

Nines shut the water off. He grabbed a towel from the cabinet and mechanically began to dry himself off. Then he used it to rub the steam off the mirror; it didn't help much, although now Nines could make out a patch of white across his nose and the ridge of his cheek. He ran his fingertips over the spot, feeling where his damp artificial skin gave way to smooth plastic. Nines winced, although the action could cause no pain.

There was a short knock on the bathroom door. Nines tied the towel around his waist and pulled the door open. Gavin's gaze was diverted, looking at something down the hall instead of at Nines, who stood silently in the bathroom doorway.

"Uh," finally the detective looked at Nines, first landing on the exposed plastic of his face before trailing down to the towel and away again. The bruise under his eye had darkened. He held the same pajamas that he had offered Nines the night before. Nines had washed them, the towel, and his own clothes early that morning, once Gavin had finally fallen into a deep enough sleep, leaving the pajamas folded on top of the dryer for lack of a better idea. Gavin offered them back now, slightly less flustered than he had been the first time. _That won't do,_ Nines deciding, noting how the detective's eyes flicked back to his waist momentarily.

"I am anatomically correct," he offered in a manner that sounded perfectly informative, like a tour guide answering questions about an exhibit. "You were wondering, weren't you?"

There. Gavin turned a deep shade of red, mouth falling open, something between a cough and a choke escaping his throat. Nines repressed his grin as Gavin's eyes snapped to his face, and then to the space behind his head when that proved too uncomfortable. "No! No I fucking wasn't. Why the hell would I--what the fuck is wrong with you?"

The response was too fast, too defensive. Of course, all of Nines' research told him that humans were predisposed to squeamishness on topics of sex and anatomy. The detective's knee-jerk response did not surprise him one bit. Nines could hold his neutral expression for the rest of the night if he were so inclined, but he chose to let his mouth twitch into the smirk it so desperately wanted to be.

"You're such an asshole." Gavin snapped, tossing the clothes into Nines' chest so that he had no choice but to take them. He was still flushed and averting his gaze, but Nines could tell that some of the detective's discomfort had faded when he realized that he was being, as he would put it, fucked with. "Fucking jackass."

Nines didn't suppress his laughter as he shut the bathroom door again. He heard Gavin mumble more insults, voice fading as he walked away. Likely into the living room.

The pajamas were odd for many reasons. Nines found the skull pattern mildly amusing, and the fabric was soft but thin. It fit Nines perfectly, which meant they must be too long for Gavin, who was shorter and not as broad at the shoulder as Nines was. What really baffled Nines was the fact that Gavin had offered them for Nines' use at all. The detective was well aware that Nines didn't sleep and was perfectly comfortable in his own outfit; the gesture was pointless. That fact only made Nines appreciate it all the more.

Gavin had taken up the same space on the couch when Nines left the bathroom, except this time his back was pressed to the corner of the cushion and armrest and his knees were pulled up to his chest. Killer was perched on the back of the couch behind him like some stone gargoyle. Nines took a seat on the other side of the couch. Gavin didn't look at him, instead keeping his gaze firmly on the data pad that rested against his legs. The news was still on, volume lowered, but Nines had no problem hearing it. An android had been found strung up from a street light in the middle of the day, still active but badly damaged. The attackers had removed it's voice box and both optical units. According to the reporter, the android remained there for several hours before anyone bothered to call it in.

A flash of yellow and Nines changed the channel.

"Are you really?" Gavin asked after five minutes and thirty seven seconds. Nines briefly considered teasing him as he had earlier, by pretending to have no idea what the detective meant, but he was relatively certain that doing so would result in an abrupt end to conversation.  
"Yes." He answered simply. Gavin was still not looking at him, although he seemed to be doing so with considerably more effort now.

"Why?"

"I'm programmed to use whatever means necessary to complete my mission."

That got the detective's attention properly, and he glanced up. He seemed to be sizing Nines up this time.   
"Really? Cyberlife freaks thought _you_ could seduce someone?" Gavin scoffed. He seemed to regret it the moment Nines' mouth twitched back into a grin, opening his mouth to try and interrupt whatever Nines was about to say. "Don't--"

"And why not?" Nines crooked an eyebrow like a challenge, " _You_ find me attractive."

Somewhere in the stream of sputtering and curse words that followed was a coherent thought. "Like fucking hell I do you plastic son of a bitch--"

"Oh? Perhaps I was mistaken. Elevated heartrates, dilated pupils, and increased blood flow to the face are all indicative of so many human emotions. It's easy for me to get them…mixed up."

"Jesus H--Why the fuck would I like you?" Gavin still seemed flustered, but was stabilizing somewhat. "Go get your fucking circuits checked tomorrow, something is definitely shorting out in that fucking computer brain of yours."  
"I didn't say that you liked me." Nines noted coolly. That stopped Gavin dead for a moment.  
"Good, because I fucking don’t." He turned away, red-faced and seething. "Fucking weird-ass android prick." He muttered, for good measure. Nines would normally have been satisfied to let him have the last word, smug satisfaction thrilling through his body all the same. This time, however, he had a theory to confirm, and this seemed the most opportune time to pose the question. Gavin could be unreadable at times, but never when he was already embarrassed or angry.

"Are we…friends, detective?"

"No." The detective's fog-colored eyes drug themselves back to Nines' face. "Yes." He growled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yes, Nines, we're fucking friends. You absolute fucking prick."

There was a warm feeling spreading through Nines' chest, nowhere near as violent as the heat of anger or embarrassment. It was softer, more slow spreading, almost pleasant except for the way it constricted in his chest. He couldn't place the feeling, but he offered the detective a hesitant smile.

"Don't look so fucking pleased," Gavin snapped, the effect ruined by the smile he offered in return, "this doesn't change anything, and you're still a short-circuiting jackass."

"Something we have in common then," Nines offered amiably, grinning wider when Gavin flipped him off in response. Killer jumped from the back of the couch onto the cushion between them with a rolling _brrrp._ Gavin leaned forward to pet her automatically.

"So is your face gonna just…stay like that?" Gavin asked after a short silence. Nines reached up automatically, brushing his fingers over the exposed bridge of his nose.

"Yes, until I replenish my thirium tomorrow morning." He paused. "Does it disturb you?"

"Yeah. It's weird as hell." Nines didn't respond; didn't know how to. Some of the soft feeling that had settled in his biocomponents drained away. "Oh, don't look like that. If it makes you feel better, your face always fucking disturbs me."

Nines wasn't aware he had been looking any particular way. It irritated him how much conscious effort it took to maintain a straight face. "Everything about my appearance was specifically designed to be appealing to humans."

"Oh, so fucking humble."

"It's true."

"Mmm. They didn't do a great job, then."

"That's why I'm partnered with you; I look good by comparison."

Gavin laughed and repositioned himself, setting the data pad on the low coffee table already littered with them and angling himself towards the TV. "Smartass."

"Dipshit."

"Plastic prick."  
"Meat-bag."

They went around a few more times, each insult getting creatively more ridiculous until Gavin faltered. Nines smugly informed him that he had an endless variety of insults to use. Gavin told him to stuff it. The entire interaction was comfortable. Friendly.

They were friends.

 

The detective fell asleep nearly an hour earlier than he had the night before. He was still on the couch, curled against the armrest in a position that Nines was certain couldn't be comfortable. They had been in the middle of a movie that Gavin deemed "a pile of shit" but had refused to change when his head lolled to the side and his vitals evened out. Nines watched the movie for all of two more minutes. Killer had long since returned to the back of the couch, where she settled on Nines' jacket, still draped over the couch behind Gavin's head. Nines gently nudged her off it. It took several minutes of lint rolling before the fur had been fully removed. _Almost fully_ , Nines corrected himself, scanning the jacket and finding several places where the fur was still present. He gave up and draped the jacket over Gavin, the action just as mysterious as the first time he had done it.

Gavin's fridge was not exactly empty, but it was almost completely devoid of anything that wasn't leftovers or take-out. His cabinets were stocked with instant noodles, dry cereal, and coffee grounds. Nines sighed--it was becoming a concerning habit-- and made up his mind in an instant.

Nines' shoes--along with the rest of his clothes--were still in the bathroom. He slid the shoes on, fully aware that he looked utterly ridiculous in the skull-patterned pajamas but making the conscious decision not to change into his own clothes. The store was just around the block, and it was only just now four in the morning. Nines highly doubted that there would be many people around to judge. He had already made a note of the spare key that Gavin kept tucked on top of the door frame, so he locked the door behind him and tucked the key into his pocket. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and the street deserted. One block to the store and one block back, the entire trip mostly uneventful. To Nines' disappointment but not surprise, the small grocery store didn't keep blue blood in stock; very few places did yet. Thirium could, for the most part, only be found in rather large super stores or in Cyberlife stores, who had taken to selling repairs, replacements and upgrades, and thirium _to_ androids. It was an ironic twist, and one that angered humans and androids alike, just for different reasons. The only cashier available had been an android, who smiled brightly at seeing another android around.

"Mostly humans on this side of town," He said in a tone that implied the word _"unfriendly."_ Nines nodded sympathetically, the motion borne entirely out of reflex and not any actual emotion. Perhaps it had to do with the circumstances of his wake-up, but Nines felt almost more out of place amongst his fellow androids than he did with humans. Not that he felt he belonged with humans either. Truthfully, Nines thought he was always just slightly out of place, like a puzzle piece with a bent edge.

Nines let himself silently back into the apartment and replaced the key above the frame before stepping inside. The warmth soaked back into him almost immediately. He left his shoes by the door, so that he wouldn't risk waking the detective. Nines had been built with the need for versatility in mind, meaning that while he could hold his own in most forms of combat, he could also be very quiet when need be. He padded towards where the entry hall opened into the living room and froze when he noticed that the detective was already awake.

Gavin was leaning over the sink with his back to Nines. He had Nines' jacket draped over his shoulders, which jerked every so often with repressed sobs. This…was unexpected. Nines felt his processor stutter momentarily. He had endless lines of code dictating what he should do in any situation, from negotiating with a hostage-taker to interrogating suspects or talking his way out of a thousand different life-or-death scenarios. This was different, to say the least, but the basics remained the same. All he had to do was fall back on what he already knew. He set the grocery bag on the floor at the end of the hall.

"Gavin?" Nines asked softly, more to announce his presence than anything else. The man stiffened but didn't turn around. "What's wrong?"

No response. Nines had expected as much. Gavin's breathing deepened deliberately. A few steps more and Nines was standing in the kitchen's threshold. "Gavin."

"Leave me the fuck alone." Gavin's voice was tight, the words thick with tears. "I'm fine, just--"

Three long strides and Nines' was at his side, a hand on his shoulder. This was, evidently, the wrong move, as Gavin spun around and shoved at his chest with full force. Nines allowed himself to roll back onto his heels, casually distancing himself from the detective; not a full retreat, but enough that Gavin didn't feel threatened. The jacket fell to the floor, almost unnoticed except as an idle observation in the back of Nines' mind. "What happened?" Nines probed, his voice low and steady. Reassuring, coaxing.

"Nothing fucking happened, okay! Just stop." Gavin's voice rose into a hoarse shout for a moment before dropping back into a tight whisper. "Just forget about this, it's nothing. Stupid nightmare."

The final admission was a clear sign that the detective _wanted--_ or maybe needed--to tell Nines about it. Probing further would only serve to cause Gavin to go back on the defensive. Nines tilted his head and waited silently. There was a twist behind his pump regulator, a jagged feeling that reached all the way through to his heart. Gavin looked terrible, between the bruising and the red swelling of his eyes and the way his expression warped into something pained and uncertain. It took a long time--one minute and fourteen seconds-- for the detective to speak again.

"I just have nightmares from time to time. It's fucking stupid. I'm usually alright but sometimes… _fuck_."

Nines nodded slowly. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No." Gavin shook his head emphatically, unable to look Nines in the eyes. "No, I really fucking don't. In fact, what I want is for you to pretend like this didn't happen."

"Okay. Consider it forgotten."

This clearly took the detective by surprise. He tilted his head back to stare at Nines suspiciously. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Nines meant it. Perhaps he should pry, should make sure that the detective was really alright, but something told him that it wouldn't work. Gavin was the sort to push back under pressure--sometimes literally. Everything in Nines' coding told him to press the detective, but he wasn't a criminal for Nines to interrogate. Gavin was, well, Gavin, and for better or worse, Nines would respect the boundary he put forward.

Perhaps Gavin heard the sincerity in his voice, or just knew Nines well enough to know when he was being straightforward. Either way, Gavin seemed satisfied with the response. He turned away, walking into the living room. Nines watched him hesitate, looking between his own bedroom and the couch where he had spent most of the night already.

"Where'd you go, anyway?" He asked, not looking back at Nines.

"To the store down the block."

Without another word, Gavin turned down the hallway. Nines wondered if his answer had somehow been the wrong one. He heard the door at the end of the hall click shut, and the twisted feeling in his chest tightened.

Killer, ever the opportunist, took her chance to reclaim Nines' jacket where it lay on the floor. Nines sighed and let her have it. The grocery bag was still sitting at the entry way, but he wouldn’t need it for a while. Acting on an unfamiliar impulse, Nines sunk gracefully to the floor beside the cat, taking comfort in the silkiness of her fur under his hand. "I have no clue what to do with him." He confided in the cat, who purred her acknowledgement. Nines smiled, ever so slightly, but the discomfort in his chest didn't subside.

He searched internally, reaching out to a familiar signal, giving it a tug. Connor answered without hesitation; Nines knew he would.

 _Are you okay?_ came Connor's voice in his mind, worried as ever.

 _Yes. Probably._ Nines answered. He was hesitating. He needed comfort, advice, had contacted Connor for that very purpose, and yet his pride stopped his words. Useless thing, pride, and yet Nines was loathe to abandon his. Connor's signal had become wordlessly inquisitive, waiting patiently for Nines to settle his inner debate. _I don't know how to handle the detective, honestly. His effect on me is…surprising._

 _You like him._ It wasn't a question or accusation. The words felt like a memory.

 _Yes, we're friends._ Nines could feel a slip of jealousy from Connor, the feeling instantly gratifying. He knew that Connor would feel that too, but there was no helping it. Neither of them would hold their feelings against each other; they were both still just trying to figure this emotional bullshit out.

 _I don't know Detective Reed like I know Hank. Despite my best efforts, he seems resistant to the idea of getting along._ There was a pause, as though Connor were carefully choosing his words. _The detective is a difficult man to get to know; the fact that he's chosen to do so with you is a  good sign. I think you two are more alike than either of you realize._

 _Meaning?_ Nines insisted, impatiently. He was fairly certain that Gavin would disagree vehemently if Nines so much as insinuated that they were anything alike.

_Meaning that whatever you're doing is working. Don't worry about how to handle him; just keep being his friend instead._

That felt entirely unhelpful and overly sentimental. _Thank you._

He felt Connor's amusement and frustration in his words: _Anytime, Nines._

They separated their connection, and Nines fell back into his own mind. While not particularly helpful, Nines felt better for having spoken to someone. He stared down at the exposed white of the knuckles in his lap and let himself slip into standby mode, falling into the routine running of diagnostic and calibration programs. In two hours he would stand back up and recover the abandoned groceries, putting them to their intended purpose. But for now, he leaned back against the cabinets and closed his eyes. A facsimile of sleep, as it were; a little while of thoughtless peace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, yay, i finally finished this chapter. Hopefully the next one will put me back on track with my usual quick release lol

Although Gavin knew he had gotten at least two hours of sleep, albeit nonconsecutive, he felt like he hadn't slept at all. Hell, he wished he hadn't. Then he wouldn't have had to spend the rest of the night staring up at his ceiling, replaying the memories of his own nightmare and the entire encounter with Nines.

_Leaning against the door, not enough to hold it shut. The force outside is overwhelming, it's stronger than Gavin is. It'll always be stronger. He can already feel the pain, just a taste of what's to come. He's screaming, always screaming. It feels like he's going to tear his own throat to shreds._

It was a new variation on the same old dreams. Sometimes he was running through some creepy-as-hell woods or trapped in the police station. Sometimes the dream might seem pleasant at first, at a bar or having dinner, and the intruder would appear and Gavin's blood would turn icy. He was fucking over it, over the helplessness and the fear and the goddamn nightmares.

He was glad that Nines had been out for most of it. The tail-end that the android caught was more than enough to make Gavin want to avoid him for the rest of eternity; he didn't think he could have dealt with the android being around when he woke up screaming, sobs choking him up the moment he came to.

Nines had looked concerned. Gavin didn't want to think about it.

The clock on the bedside table projected the time onto the ceiling in dull red numbers. It was 7:47 when he smelled coffee brewing. Maybe that should've been his sign to get up and face the android, but it was too much. He took his time getting dressed instead, which wasn't difficult to do when his muscles protested every movement. Suppressing a groan, Gavin got himself ready in his typical style: leather jacket and hoodie--not the ones he had left on the couch, those would need to be lint rolled and washed and lint rolled again before he could wear them-- dark colored t-shirt and jeans. It was practical, and Gavin knew he looked good. Maybe he understood the android's one outfit after all. Gavin huffed at the thought.

Gavin tucked his gun and handcuffs on his waist and clipped his badge to his belt. He kept his head down as he slipped down the hall and into the bathroom to complete his morning routine. It had only been about seven minutes--Gavin could get it down to three in a rush--but he would have to leave soon anyway. It occurred to him that he had meant to call Nines a cab that morning; it'd be too late now. Gavin was steeling himself for the awkward encounter as he stepped into the living room, wondering what the best way to play it would be, but the android was nowhere to be found.

"Nines?" He called, already knowing it was pointless. Gavin's apartment wasn't exactly large, and he highly doubted that the prick was hiding in the laundry room. Nines had already left.

Relieved and only a little bothered, Gavin followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Killer meowed at him from the floor, settled on Nines' jacket where it still lay on the floor. Another embarrassing reminder of last night--well, technically, just a few hours ago this morning. The thought made Gavin feel even grimmer.

There was another mug waiting on him beside the coffee maker. A tall, square mug that Fowler had given the whole office one year. "Don't Cut Corners," It said. The one Gavin had used yesterday was still sitting on his desk, in desperate need of washing. The drink looked like something you'd get at a coffee shop that wouldn't sell plain black coffee even if you asked; it was topped with some sort of cream that was a little too thick to be just whipped cream, three stemless cherries set carefully into the foam, and with a light dusting of what looked like chocolate shavings. "Fucking hell."

It was _delicious_ , even if it left a line of foam on Gavin's upper lip. The coffee had been sweetened beyond what Gavin would normally have done, and there was a strong but not overpowering cherry flavor to it. Gavin knew for a fact that he did not have cherries or any sort of cream in his apartment, and he realized that Nines' trip to the store must have been specifically to get it.

Frowning, Gavin took the mug with him and made his way down to his car. He'd be late if he stuck around any longer. Not that he was a stranger to being late, but he was already dressed and Nines was probably almost there, and damn if he wanted any rumors spreading about the android's injuries without him there to intercept them. Admittedly, the idea of people thinking that _he_ had done that to Nines' face was almost flattering, but Fowler would tear him a new one for it. The captain had already threatened Gavin with a mandatory team-building exercise--the sort that would make him want to kill Nines if he didn't already-- and he knew Fowler well enough to know that the man wasn't bullshitting.

The ride to the office did wonders for Gavin's mood; he cranked up the radio and drank the warm, cherry-flavored coffee and didn't bother to think at all. Bass and heavy drums drowned out everything but the way his heart beat in time, and by the time he got to the station he felt almost energized. He could face Nines, and the questions about their fucked-up faces, and Fowler's inevitable shouting. Gavin prided himself on being pretty fucking resilient after all.

The bullpen was pretty empty, but not surprisingly so. Most people at the DPD had better things to do than sit at a desk filling out paperwork all day; the job was proving to be more hands-on now than it ever had been before. Too much tension between humans and androids still, too much red ice, and too many pricks with a bad idea on both sides of the fence. The only people around were Fowler, Ben Collins, Connor, and a few new officers and androids that Gavin had never spoken to before. One of the officers he recognized as the woman who had been used as a hostage a while back; he was distantly glad to see she hadn't been scared off. The DPD was shorthanded enough as it was, they could use more people who had the guts to come back after a crazed android put a gun to their head. She was chatting with one of the identical police androids that were scattered around.

Nines wasn't at his desk, but from the looks that the people around were giving him, Gavin guessed that his partner had been here at some point. Not in a hurry to deal with whatever-the-fuck his colleagues thought anymore, Gavin sat at his desk and made a point of throwing himself into his work. He gave the monitor his best glare for extra effectiveness; most people knew better than to approach Gavin when he was practically projecting the words "don't fuck with me." Unfortunately, Connor was one of the few who never seemed to learn _that_ particular lesson.

"Detective Reed," He said suddenly from the detective's left, and Gavin, who had been too busy scowling at his terminal to notice the android's approach, jumped.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?" Gavin growled, more annoyed at having been so visibly caught off guard than at Connor's actual presence. He spun back around to his terminal, feigning indifference. "Come to bother me because your boyfriend's missing?"

Connor didn't scowl, per say, but Gavin had learned enough to notice the brief flash of irritation on his face. " _The lieutenant,"_ Connor emphasized the words through his teeth, "is sick today, and no, that's not why I'm here."

"Sick or hungover?" Even Gavin had noticed that Hank had been sober more often than not recently, so the insult felt almost out-of-date, but Connor winced. _Huh._ Maybe it was a low-blow to continue harping on Hank's particular vice, but Gavin wasn't known for his good manners. Especially not when all he wanted was to be left the fuck alone, particularly by pretty-boy androids who were far more persistent than they had any right to be. "The last one, then? That _would_ explain why you're here instead of nursing him back to health like the good little robot you are."

"I suggest you shut up, Detective Reed." It was almost Connor's voice, but not his words. Gavin glanced up. Nines was standing by his own desk, setting an unopened bottle of thirium down with a too-heavy thud.

"Not my fault that he's a robotic Mary-Sue with an old drunk for a partner." Gavin began, meeting the challenge in his partner's gaze head on. He defied Nines with a single raised eyebrow.  
"Search history, detective." Nines reminded him coolly.

"Pictures, dipshit." Gavin tried to sound unruffled, but a picture of Nines blushing had nothing on some of the shit in his search history. In fact, the only reason that he knew that Nines hadn't actually snooped through his internet history was that his partner still seemed concerned by Gavin's counter-leverage. As if on cue, Gavin watched the bastard's LED turn yellow for several agonizing seconds. Then a tight smile, too disdainful to be considered good-natured.  
"Pictures, indeed, detective," Nines leaned in just enough so that his stage-whisper wouldn't actually be heard by anyone around. "HR400s. Interesting choice, _Gavin._ "

"Nines, you piece of shit--" Gavin grabbed at the only part of the android within arm's reach and leaned in as well. Nines showed no interest in backing down, even if Gavin hadn't been physically holding him forward by the silken fabric of his black tie, and so they met each other's gaze unwaveringly. The android's icy scorn held its own against Gavin's heated glare. Plastic exoskeleton was still clearly visible across his partner's face, as though someone had just wiped the skin away with a cloth.

"Nines, it's okay." Connor intervened, putting his arm between them. The motion succeeded in breaking the tension between them, and Gavin let Nines' tie go. He leaned back stiffly and drew himself to full height. Gavin almost laughed; maybe it was wishful thinking, but he thought the android looked _offended._ The way he straightened his tie with just a little too much force screamed of injured pride. It wasn't a win, per say, but Gavin at least considered this match a draw.

"We'll call it a tie." He offered, the pun too good to pass up. Nines' sneer matched Connor's eye roll perfectly, and the rest of the tension drained away immediately, leaving only an exasperated Nines, a confused Connor, and a far-too-pleased with himself Gavin.

"Dumbass."

"Toaster."

" _Anyway,_ " Connor cut in sharply, clearly unaware that the insults were now a good thing. He blinked slowly, and a subtle tightness in his jaw indicated annoyance. Gavin would have missed it if not for all his practice reading the minute changes in his own partner's face. "I was _going_ to ask for assistance with a case. Since Hank is… sick, I thought it'd be best to arrange for a different form of back-up."

"I'm nobody's back-up." Gavin interjected. He turned back to his terminal one more time, truly uninterested in whatever was going to happen next. No way could he work with not just one but _two_ plastic assholes today. At least he was used to his own bastard of a partner, but he didn't like the idea of being outnumbered by supercomputers with too much attitude and matching superiority complexes.

"You're my back-up." Nines sounded far too smug.

"Fuck you, Nines." Gavin took a sip of his coffee, realizing only when the cold, cherry-flavored liquid hit his tongue that it was the same cup Nines himself had made for him.

"Time and place, detective." Gavin nearly choked. Nines continued, tone switching to innocent in the few second it took Gavin to remember how to swallow, "Unless that's not what you meant? Your internet history _is_ muddling my processors, I'm afraid."

"Archives, ten minutes." Gavin offered lightly, drawing both eyebrows up. Not exactly a challenge, but something like it. He appreciated how flippant his own voice sounded. There was more than enough time for Nines to respond if he had been so inclined, but he remained silent, his face filtering through several similar expressions before settling on his trademark bemused and a little wicked.

"The android? The one that was left blind, mute, and bleeding in the street yesterday? I've got a lead on who did it and would appreciate having _someone_ watching my back." Connor sounded tense and looked like he regretted approaching them for help in the first place. Gavin could just imagine the earful that Anderson would get that night--unless the android was planning on giving him the silent treatment, that was. That's what Connor had done last time he was pissed off at the lieutenant, and it had gotten to the point where Ben Collins had to intervene on Hank's behalf and convince Connor to talk to him again. Turned out that Connor was an easy sell on the matter, but the entire department had felt the residual awkwardness for the rest of the day.

Nines' careful silence at Gavin's retort fell into something far more serious. "Of course. I'd be glad to assist you."

" _Thank you._ " Connor paused for a moment, collected himself, and continued on with considerably less exasperation. "We got the face of the man who did it on CCTV from a deli near the crime scene, and I just got word that someone reported seeing him earlier this morning, at a hotel near the area."

Nines nodded and picked up the bottle of thirium, lid still on tight. Gavin rolled his eyes and made to stand up, but his partner shot him a look that he couldn’t quite discern. "I'm sure you have other work to do, detective. Connor and I can handle this one."

"Right," Gavin tried not to feel offended as he leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands behind his head casually. "I'll try not to miss you too much."

Nines didn't respond to his quip. The two androids, a matching pair, strode out of the office. Gavin noticed how much more fluid Nines' movements were compared to the older version. Like a runway model compared to a remote-control mannequin. Cyberlife had really done their best work on Nines.

Gavin took the last sip of cold coffee and went to get a fresh cup, knowing it would be especially bitter today by comparison. He refused to linger on the look in Nines' eyes when he told Gavin to stay behind, and he especially refused to notice the small twinge that had taken root in his chest at that moment.

"Reed!" Fowler shouted from the door to his office as Gavin made his way back to his desk. He felt his insides curl into themselves in preparation for whatever lecture he was about to endure. Fucking hell, just what he needed. Gavin rolled his eyes and took the time to carefully set the coffee on his desk, just to spite Fowler. He ran through a list of things he might've done to provoke the captain this time, and a hundred different excuses for each. No wonder Nines had dipped out and left him behind; plastic bastard probably knew this was coming. Gavin made a mental note to get the asshole back later, and closed the heavy glass door behind him.

 

 

Gavin was the first to admit that his knowledge of androids was all but nonexistent, but he was still fairly certain that they shouldn't be spitting blood. The pair of RKs came striding into the station nearly three hours after they left, looking far worse for wear. Connor, grey plastic exposed along his jaw and blue blood oozing from his nose, seemed to have fared much better than Gavin's partner. The skin on Nines' face had been reactivated, but around Nines' neck it had retracted to leave a sickeningly hand-shaped stretch of exoskeleton, blood spilling over his full lips in alarming amounts. His shirt had been torn, buttons missing down to the middle of his stomach, blood coating the exposed skin. They marched in on either side of an equally roughed-up human, and several officers rushed to take the man off their hands.

Fowler took note of the scene as the unwilling man was forced down the hall and into the interrogation room. He didn't yell for the androids, but stood in the doorway wearily, looking twice his age and in dire need of a two-day nap. "Do I even want to know?" He called, grabbing the attention of the two detectives. They both gave a subtle start--the sort Gavin only noticed because he knew what to look for--and turned in-sync to look at the captain.

"The suspect resisted arrest but is now in custody," Connor said professionally, an edge in his voice that answered the question better than his words did. Gavin leaned back in his chair, eyes glued to Nines, taking in the damage. If it had been possible for an android to look sore, Nines probably would have. The feeling read in the way he probed at his own injuries with blue-and-red covered fingers, his LED flashing between yellow and blue as he tested the damage. Fowler seemed on the verge of calling them into his office, but then he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and sighed.  
"Get yourselves taken care of before you interrogate him," He ordered, his words forceful but concerned, "I can't afford to have the both of you shutting down."

Gavin could see the willpower it took for the pair not to argue. Fowler retreated to his office without another word, and the androids moved to the breakroom, making a beeline for the thirium cabinet. Drumming his fingers on his desk, Gavin felt his legs getting ready to push him onto his feet. He didn't fight the urge. Chris Miller had shown up at some point, but his presence at the breakroom table was a surprise to Gavin, who had been throwing himself into his work with intentional aggressiveness following his conversation with Fowler. The captain had wanted an update on the murdered androids and was every bit as annoyed as Gavin was at both the lack of progress and lack of any evidence that the bastard was inside the DPD. The captain trusted Gavin's instincts, which counted for a lot as far as the detective was concerned, but trust didn't hold up against the legal system.

Chris nodded as Gavin approached but said nothing. Nines turned around, a bag of blue blood in his hand and a fistful of paper towels in the other, his eyes taking in the detective's approach almost appraisingly. Connor was holding another thirium bag. Nines must've used the last bottle that morning. Or, Gavin decided when he remembered that the cabinet had been devoid of any bottles the day before as well, had picked the bottle up somewhere else. Gavin could only think of two places that might sell thirium near the station, and only one of them was near enough to the path that Nines might have taken if he walked from Gavin's apartment to work.

"That looks bad," Gavin offered by way of greeting, earning himself a glare. Nines wiped his mouth with the towels.

"Not the time, detective." His voice sounded gurgled and staticky, like a radio tuned to a station that was just a little too far out of range.

"That sounds bad," Gavin responded, a little more seriously this time.

"Very eloquent. What sense will you focus on next, I wonder?" The buzz of Nines' voice got worse with every sarcastic syllable.

"Smell. Definitely smells bad." He paused, gaze dropping back to the blood bag. Offhandedly, he added, "Mug's in the cabinet."

"That's yourself you smell," Nines replied, turning to retrieve the robot cup. 

Chris, who had thus far been silently eating his lunch and pretending he wasn’t paying any attention to the exchange, let out a snort. Gavin ignored it, but was suddenly aware of how playful the interaction had come across. _Nothing wrong with that,_ he tried convincing himself, _we're partners. Partners are friendly._ Besides, Chris wasn't exactly the office gossip; he was a good guy, talkative, but he kept the things he heard to himself. 

"So what happened?" Chris asked as Nines set the mug on the table next to him.

"We found the guy who attacked that android yesterday in his hotel room, but he wasn't alone," Connor explained tightly, but not impolitely, "They resisted arrest. Violently."

"You only brought one guy in, though?"

"One of the other suspects tried to escape by climbing down from the room's balcony," Nines picked up the conversation, and Chris winced at the electronic cracking of his voice. "It ended…messily."

"And the other two got away while we were preoccupied with his partners." Connor finished, sounding frustrated but otherwise normal.

"How many fucking guys were there?" Gavin asked, a little too loudly. Suddenly the sheer amount of damage the androids had sustained made sense. He should have been there, if for no other reason than to even the odds. The androids were stronger than their lean appearances betrayed, but that didn't mean they couldn't get their asses kicked--or worse, waltzing into a situation where they were outnumbered and unprepared.

"Four." Nines answered. Gavin felt his jaw tighten, and his partner noticed. Nines tilted his head curiously, analyzing Reed's expression, and the motion had the unintended side effect of drawing attention to the hand print still left around the android's smooth throat.  
"Fucking hell," Gavin growled at the same time that Chris let out a soft " _damn."_

"What I don't understand is," Nines paused mid-sentence, closing his eyes in an outward attempt to collect himself. The distortions were beginning to make his voice too loud and harsh. It sounded like he had two separate voices; one stereotypically tinny and robotic and the other his own normal voice hidden under a static buzz. "What I don't--My vocal box is malfunctioning."

"No shit." Gavin deadpanned, wincing at Nines' unforgiving voice on his eardrums. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he imagine someone's hand around Nines' throat, pressing hard enough to damage the internal components. He wondered which of the four it was, and found himself hoping that it was the bastard sitting in the interrogation room and not one of the two who managed to get away. "Guess it got fucked up when you got choked out. What don't you get?"  
He watched Nines' LED turn solid yellow with mild curiosity, and his gaze followed the motion of the android's slender fingers as they pressed into his throat, in the spot over where Gavin assumed his voice box was. It wasn't until Connor spoke instead that he noticed the other man's LED was yellow, too. Android telepathy; Gavin kept forgetting about that. Freaked him out, but proved useful when Connor completed Nines' thought for him.

"There was only one man caught on camera, and only one set of fingerprints found on the android. From the one who plummeted off the balcony. If the other three played a role in the crime, why was there no trace of them? And if they didn't play a part, what were they planning? Why did they fight?"

"They're guilty as shit of something. Guy wasn't from around here, right? Since he was staying in a hotel. So maybe they had done this before, somewhere else." Gavin guessed, wishing he had bothered to glance over the case while the two were out. Nines took a long drink of thirium, the skin around his throat returning in a weird, tidal manner. It was almost hypnotic to watch the wave of blue crest over the exposed throat and slowly form into pale, flawless skin. Connor continued.

"It's a strong possibility. There have been an overwhelming amount of cases involving similar methods, too many to link to our suspects without further information." At some point, Connor had completely emptied the bag of blood. He leaned back from the table. "I should get to the interview. With any luck, the suspect will tell us what we need to know without requiring any extra investigation on our part." His tone implied that "luck" wasn't exactly what he was planning to rely on.

"Good luck," Chris offered, out of politeness or naivety. Connor made to leave, but paused.

"Do you want me to look at that?" He offered Nines, a hand already reaching for the back of his counterpart's neck. Nines grabbed him by the wrist suddenly, stopping the motion and startling the two human onlookers.

"No," he said, insistence clear even despite the damaged quality of his voice. A long intense moment of silent communication between the two, and Connor pulled his arm away too roughly. Gavin watched Nines tilt his head in response, eyebrows raising and lips pouting. It was another of those pleading looks that Nines absolutely should not have been able to make; nothing about Nines was soft or cute. He was all hard edges and gorgeous, and Gavin hated the thought that he would break under the insufferably innocent look on the man's face at that moment. Connor frowned and stepped back.

"That won't work on me, Nines," he scolded, his voice stern but a humorous crinkle to his eyes, "We have the same face."

Gavin begged to differ, but no one was asking his opinion. Nines opened his mouth and a pathetic crackle escaped. If there had been any words in it, they were lost under the force of the white noise that came out of Nines' throat. Connor rolled his eyes--Gavin noted with some detached amusement that he had gotten very good at that--and gave in.

"Fine! Nines says, and I quote, that his vocal processor may be fried, but he's still a better conversationalist than Gav--the detective is."

Gavin shot Nines the middle finger and a grin. Connor left without any further words or a comment of his own. Chris, sandwich finished and coffee only half-drunk, made his excuses and left as well. It was just Gavin and Nines, the former leaned over the round black table and the latter looking somewhere between frustrated and amused. "So, maybe we should just take the rest of the day off? You can't exactly stay and work if it sounds like someone's abusing a loudspeaker every time you talk."

Nines considered the offer for just a moment before giving a single curt nod. "Alright. Where we gotta go to get you fixed? Cyberlife stores still do repairs, right?"

There was a stiffness in the way Nines' face changed. Gavin thought he seemed uncomfortable with the notion. Discomfort was a new one, as far as Gavin could tell. "What, scared of the doctor?"

Not that Gavin could hold it against his partner if he was; Gavin himself avoiding doctors and hospitals like the plague--ironic, he knew. Android health was so different from human health that it likely wasn't comparable at all, but Gavin imagined that whatever android repair rooms looked like, they probably had the same clinical, hostile feeling that exam rooms did.

Nines opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it into a frown at the low humming that reverberated constantly from his throat. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small memo pad, flipping it open to a blank page in the middle. Gavin had never seen the notebook before, or any sign of Nines owning so much as a pen, but he caught glimpses of the writing filling the entire first half of the pad. Nines unhooked the pen clipped to the spiral rings and began to write. He turned the memo pad around to show Gavin the small, too-neat handwriting:

_Not scared. I don't trust Cyberlife._

"You think they'd dismember you or some shit?" Gavin was skeptical. Cyberlife weren't exactly the most up-and-up as far as corporations went, but no one could accuse the pricks of being dumb. There wasn't any profit to be had in making and breaking androids anymore, at least not as far as he could tell. But marketing their services to the free androids _they_ created? Not only was it shameless and absolutely scummy, it was a solid business plan.

A deeper frown and more quick writing. _Or reset me. Wouldn't be the first time for either._

Gavin didn't know what to say to that, pressing his tongue between his back teeth as he thought. Nines clearly didn't want sympathy, and Gavin knew he was the last person in Detroit who could offer it; all Nines seemed to want at the moment was to avoid going to Cyberlife for repairs. "Fine, so what do you have in mind?"

Nines paused. His LED spun yellow and he twirled the pen between his fingers in a blur almost too fast for Gavin's eyes to follow. Finally, he stilled the pen and wrote a bit more. _Two birds, one stone. Jericho._

 

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

The ride to Jericho House didn't take very long, and in that time, Nines managed to explain his plan to Gavin entirely in writing. Gavin thought it was pretty solid; get Nines' voice box fixed, and then get access to Jericho's registry to try and find a connection between the two thirium-coated victims. Nines seemed certain that getting their hands on the registry would be as easy as asking for it, and Gavin knew that the android had probably run through every possible scenario and had calculated the most likely outcomes. He bet that if he asked Nines for the exact probability of it being that simple, the android could tell him down to the infinite decimals.

Gavin had resolved to ask as few questions as possible, given that his partner couldn't even talk at the moment, but he was bored and nervous as hell for so many reasons. For one, he was about to show up at a safe-house for androids, and he was pretty fucking certain that his presence would be unpleasant for all parties involved. Gavin's experience with androids was limited to the RKs, who were, as far as he could tell, abnormalities in more than just design. Probably had to do with them being prototypes.

The thought led Gavin back to his main source of anxiety. Nines, his partner, had gotten his ass handed to him so badly that it damaged one of his internal components.  And that scared Gavin, no matter how much he told himself it didn't. Hadn't Cyberlife designed Nines to be able to fight? How could a human still damage him, and so badly? Gavin didn't want to think about it anymore, but that didn't stop the thoughts from forcing their way forwards every time he cleared his mind.

"Hey, does that shit hurt?" Gavin blurted. He knew that androids didn't feel pain, but he needed to hear--well, in this case, read it. One of these days he really would break down and buy himself a manual-drive car. He felt the urge to squeeze his hands around the wheel and feel the vibrations through his arms like when he had first learned to drive as a teen, when automated cars were still in the testing stages. Of course, the only reason that Gavin had switched to automatic was because he was a dangerous driver; a few too many close calls and he had to accept that he couldn't be trusted behind a wheel. That didn't stop him from wanting to drive.

Nines tilted his head and scrawled a few words on a new sheet of paper, having already filled two of the palm-sized pages with his explanation. _You know it doesn't._

Gavin didn't have much to say to that. The attitude aside, he did feel reassured. It really wasn't such a ridiculous notion; androids were going around feeling the full spectrum of emotions now, so why shouldn't they be able to feel pain? There was probably some long, irritatingly technical explanation that Nines would be more than willing to offer when his voice box had been fixed. Gavin resolved never to ask. Nines was looking at him curiously, LED flickering for only a moment, and then he wrote something else. He handed the notepad to Gavin entirely, the message far longer than the one before, and took to twirling the pen between his fingers with inhuman grace.

_It is uncomfortable to know that I am damaged, and being unable to speak when that is the easiest way to communicate with you is unpleasant, but I don't feel any pain. I'm eager to be fixed, and even more so at the prospect that we might finally get a lead on our case._

"Yeah, me too. About the case. I'm fucking tired of waiting on another body to turn up with no more evidence than the last one."

Nines made a low crackly noise that Gavin had started recognizing as a hum. Just a small sound of acknowledgement. The android wasn't looking at Gavin anymore, gaze instead focused on the road as they approached the address he had entered into the GPS.

Gavin thought it safe to say that it had been a long time since he felt nervous; out-of-place, sure, all the time, but very rarely nervous. Still, that was the only name he could put to the jittering in his gut and the way his leg bounced up and down of its own accord. Nines had already warned him that he would likely be the only human at Jericho, and that many of the residents there might not be thrilled with his presence. Fair e-fucking-nough, Gavin wasn't going to be too happy being there either. Androids were…well, Gavin had never hidden his distaste for androids, to put it mildly. He doubted that any of the ones at Jericho would have any way of knowing that, but he had learned not to put anything past the plastic pricks. Maybe they weren't all as insufferable and intuitive as Nines, but Gavin figured anyone, even an android, could tell when someone clearly wasn't comfortable around them.

Which led Gavin around to a sore topic he had been pointedly avoiding for days now. He doesn't hate androids--not that he had ever truly hated them in the passionate, consuming way one hates something. With the exception of that prick Connor, Gavin had only ever felt utter disdain for androids. That in itself wasn't difficult to admit, especially now that they were all basically only a few squishy parts away from being human; the thought only became problematic when he began thinking too hard about why the change in his opinion had occurred. He was a smart guy, of course he knew, but that didn't mean he could let himself think it.

Gavin hadn't realized that the frustrated grunt he heard had come from his own throat until Nines reached forward and tapped at the dashboard to get his attention. Nines wasn't scanning him, his LED too calm and blue for that, but his normal gaze had become too intense for comfort, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in a too-human gesture that clashed with everything else about him. In lieu of speaking, Gavin watched Nines carefully rearrange his expression into something deliberately concerned. The notebook was still in Gavin's lap, where he had forgotten about it. He offered it back quickly, but Nines just kept looking at him, forehead wrinkled by the way his eyebrows were knitted together, still biting his lip. They stayed like that for an awkwardly long time, Nines watching Gavin and Gavin pointedly pretending like he didn't understand the question being asked. Gavin finally thrust the note pad the rest of the way into Nines' lap and got out of the car before the android could decide to write something.

The Jericho House was pretty nondescript, considering what it was. Just a tall, modern concrete building with far too many windows wrapping around all sides of it. It closer resembled an office building than any sort of habitable shelter, at least from the outside. There weren't many cars around, but the building was situated on a large plot of land far enough to be out of eyesight of the nearest neighbors. People were milling about in the field that stretched out to the right of the building, despite the day being characteristically gloomy, the sounds of chatter and laughter carrying clearly.

Nines circled around the car, notepad in hand. He flashed it towards Gavin. _Maybe you should wait here?_

It was an easy out. Gavin could wait in the car instead of waltzing into a place where androids went to be free of humans, and he could even pretend like it was Nines' idea instead of his own misgivings. "Fuck that."

Even to his own ears he sounded unnecessarily aggressive, but he had earned himself a smile. He wasn't sure why but it didn't matter, because _holy fuck._ Nines had mastered the art of the wicked grin or self-satisfied smirk, but the small way his mouth pulled up, all hesitant and uncertain but clearly _genuine_ was…disturbing. Yeah, that was the word Gavin wanted. Disturbing.

Definitely not "cute."

It was with relief that he noticed that Nines still wasn't analyzing him, and although his partner's expression slipped into something more standard and neutral, Gavin was pretty sure he had managed to keep his thoughts off his face. Which was good.

"Alright, let's do this shit," Gavin paused, grin starting to push its way onto his face. "On second thought, maybe we should focus on getting the lead. I think I might actually start to like you, now that you can't be a mouthy shit all the time."

Nines' throat buzzed and he started towards the building's entrance, lifting his hand so that Gavin could clearly see the raised middle finger. Gavin couldn't wait for the fucker to get his voice back.

 

The inside of Jericho was far different from the unremarkable outside. Gavin followed Nines into what looked like a reception area, the white walls covered in paintings and lined with plush, velvety green couches. Most of the paintings were pastel floral designs, but some were darker, more abstract. Shades of blue, triangles and circles and big dark smudges. Very deviant. The two painting styles clashed horribly, but that in itself was almost charming. The androids were bad at interior designing, go figure. The painted flowers weren't the only ones in the room; in fact, a floral arrangement had been stuck on every available surface, and green potted plants rest between the couches without end tables. It was a bit much, but it gave the room a lively feel, as did the music playing softly through concealed speakers. Something instrumental but energetic. There's a desk straight ahead, sleek and black and curved. The android behind it is seated on a stool, stylus in one hand and a tablet in the other. She was the same type as the receptionists at the station. Funny, Gavin was noticing with more and more frequency that, now that androids could legally hold jobs, they often returned to the ones they were built for. Receptionists, cashiers, police assistants, even the fucking RKs were only doing what they were always meant to do. Maybe it was their lack of other skills--which he doubted--or just them falling back on something familiar, this time by choice. Choice always made the difference, even if one chose to do the exact same damn thing they had always done. 

The receptionist barely glanced up at them. She no longer had her LED, but the look on her face when her eyes settled on Gavin was more than enough to determine how she felt. It was with some obvious difficulty that she fixed herself into something resembling politeness, addressing Nines--and only Nines.

"You must be RK900?" She asked, tone tightening as she recited the model number. Nines gave an equally tense nod. "Josh is waiting for you, room one twenty-three."

Another nod, this time in gratitude, and Nines turned down the hallway directly to the right, the doorway almost obscured by the tall plants on either side of it. They passed several identical doors, labelled 101 through 107, and turned left when they reached a T-bone at the end of the hall. One twenty-three was all the way at the end on the left again. The door was open, revealing a surprisingly large room and an already-present android.

Nines entered without hesitation, and Gavin followed. The android--Josh?--had his back to the door, inspected the information being displayed on one of the many monitors that wrapped around the left wall. Towards the back wall was a large machine, white circular base, two mechanical arms with clamps on the end, and a third arm straight of the middle, a large needle-like object extended from it. It made Gavin uncomfortable just looking at it. Josh must've heard them walk up, and he turned around with a hesitant smile.  
"RK900, it's been a while."

Nines nodded mutely and extended an arm as though for a handshake. The skin on his hand retracted back to his arm, and Josh's did the same. Gavin tried not to stare as they grasped each other by the wrist. Instead, he looked around at the rest of the room, his discomfort spiking as it occurred to him just how much the room resembled a doctor's office. Besides the row of terminals and the large, unfamiliar machine, the room was stark and white, the cabinets dark and unassuming, a raised examining table under a crinkly, disposable covering, and it all smelled too _clean._ Not nearly as bad the acidic sterility of a human hospital, but still the harsh and unpleasant of industrial cleaners. It made Gavin's skin crawl.

"I see," Josh was saying as he pulled his hand away, and both androids allowed their skin to reactivate. "Well, the vocal box should be an easy fix. The other two matters will take some time, but shouldn't be a problem either."

Other two matters? What the fuck did Nines have planned? Checking the registry was obviously one, but the android hadn't so much as hinted at having another objective there. Whatever, Gavin could grill him the moment the fucker got his voice fixed, anyway. He drummed his fingers against the side of his leg, resisting the urge to do anything more than that.

"Nines would like me to warn you that this part may be disturbing to humans, and you can leave the room if it makes you uncomfortable." Josh was suddenly addressing Gavin now, his voice kind as he relayed the message. Gavin picked up on the sudden use of his partner's nickname, but there were more pressing things to be concerned with.

"What the fuck does 'disturbing' involve?" The question came off aggressive, but Josh's expression softened, his dark eyes meeting Gavin's kindly.

"In order to access Nines' voice box, I'll have to open an access panel at the back of his neck and remove--"

"No, yeah, that's creepy as shit." Gavin interrupted, his stomach already flipping at the thought. It wasn't a pretty picture he conjured up; Nines, the back of his neck pulled open, wires and tubing spilling out of him in a grotesque way. His bullshit imagination added a trail of gushing blue blood down the android's back, pooling around his feet. There was no way it could really be anything like what he was imagining, but he still didn't want to see Nines in such a vulnerable position. Maybe he was just projecting, but he thought he saw relief cross his partner's face as he told them he'd stand right out in the hallway.

Josh had assured him it wouldn't take too long. Gavin didn't look at him, although he nodded his acknowledgement. He spared a last look at Nines and stepped out into the hallway. The door hissed shut behind him and suddenly he wished that he had stayed in there. His mind had always been a fucking horror show when it came to imagining worst case-scenarios, and the pictures of a gutted Nines only got worse the longer he waited.

Finally, the door slid back open, and Nines emerged no worse for wear. At least, not that Gavin could see. "So?"

Nines' head tilted, eyes glazed, and he smiled in a weird way. "I'm sorry, have we met?" He intoned in a tone perfectly similar to Connor's, too polite and detached.

The briefest moment of panic before that smile warped into something far more familiar.

"You fucking dick," Gavin was genuinely angry, but only for the briefest moment before relief chased it away. He tried not linger too long on that, playing it off instead. "Getting my hopes like that. God, you're a jackass."

"Hah, you can't get rid of me that easily." Nines brushed past him to allow Josh to follow him out into the hall.  
"Sounds like a fucking challenge to me." Gavin offered boldly, trying not to see the smile on Josh's face as he observed the back and forth.

"Involving you?" Nines snorted, making full use of his newly restored voice. "It's hardly a challenge."

"Jackass."

"Creative as always."

Gavin tried to repress his smile, but ended up only being able to force it into a smaller grin. Nines matched the expression easily, and Gavin felt warm. _I'm glad you've got your voice back._ The words were on the tip of Gavin's tongue, but they stuck there. He settled for, "Don't be such a fucking smart-ass."

Nines seemed to understand, smile widening almost imperceptibly.

Josh cleared his throat when the conversation seemed to be hitting a lull. "If you two will follow me, I'll take you up to the registry room. It'll take some time for me to find the specific records you're looking for, but there's a place up there you can wait."

Nines nodded in thanks, allowing Josh to take the lead. Despite having a generally longer stride, Nines kept pace with Gavin, arms brushing every so often in the narrow hallway. The registry room was apparently on the very top floor, and the three crowded into an elevator, silent except for the pleasant chimes of the elevator music.

Quiet except for the sound of Nines humming along to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do y'all feel about other dbh ships? any favorites, any least favorites?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is a really short chapter considering how long it took me to get it down. next chapter should be back to a more reasonable length (and hopefully won't take as long).

The fact that the registry claimed an entire room intrigued Gavin. It seemed unlikely that the androids would keep physical records, and uneconomical for them to devote an entire room to a single terminal. Keeping an individual data pad for each android seemed far more likely, because he was barred from entering the room at all. Nines was not, but chose to remain outside with Gavin. Josh was more than capable of locating the necessary files without his presence, Nines explained in response to the look Gavin had given him.

Unlike the waiting area on the first floor, the seating up there was far more elegant. And boring. No paintings adorned the white walls. No plants, either. Black leather futons and matching backless chairs were set into a semi-circle around a coffee table made entirely of glass. No fingerprints smudged the glass, but that made sense. Androids didn't have finger prints, or produce oils to leave smudges anyway. The seating area faced the registry room, clearly meant specifically for this very purpose. Gavin had to wonder how many people needed access to the room's contents, and how many got it; Josh had certainly allowed them the information they needed easily enough.

"So, are you guys friends?" Gavin pried, thinking that maybe that would explain how helpful the other android was being.

"No, but we aren't strangers," Nines was sitting next to Gavin on the centermost futon despite the presence of other options. "I stayed here for a while, in the beginning. Josh cares about people very deeply. He did everything he could to help me adjust. Gave me advice about humans far more useful than anything Connor has to offer."  
"Yeah? What sort of advice?"

"To not worry about the ones who hate me. Hate us. To spend my energy on the ones that do more than simply tolerate my existence." Nines paused, glance sideways at Gavin. "I have found very few of those people."

Gavin didn't have time to fully interpret Nines' look, or even to figure out which side of the line he fell on, because Josh chose that moment to reappear. He held a single data pad at his side, but he didn't offer it to Nines. Instead, they clasped hands again, skins fading away, and exchanged the information that way. _Yeah, that makes sense._ Still, Gavin had expected some sort of physical copy of the information; a flash drive, or info pad, or maybe a file folder. It was annoying to know that he would have to rely entirely on Nines' analysis of the information, even if that was likely what would have happened anyway. Gavin didn't like feeling useless, especially when it came the one thing he was good at; also didn't want to admit that maybe Nines _was_ a better detective by default of programming.

He drummed his fingers on his knee, only standing up when the two androids broke contact.

"So's that it?" He asked, when neither of the two moved.  
"Not quite, detective." Nines asked. "I have a…personal matter I'd like to attend to, while we're here."

"Personal matter. Right." Gavin's mutter went ignored.

"You sure? It's not something I encourage changing more than once." Josh asked, lifting up the data pad for emphasis.  
"Of course. I don't act rashly." Nines sounded just a step below haughty. Repressing a smirk and an argument, Gavin wondered if he could recreate the tone later when he reminded his partner about the very rash bar fight that Gavin's bruises were still fading from.

Josh took a step back, data pad still slightly raised as the skin faded from the hand holding it. At the same time, the android did the creepiest fucking then Gavin had seen one do; he deactivated his eyes. The dark-almost black irises, pupils, and the sclera all ebbed out, leaving shiny black lenses that made the android look like it was possessed in the most cliché way. _Fuck_. Gavin really wished he hadn't seen that shit.

"Recite your current designation, please." Josh asked in a professional tone, and Gavin noticed that an image of Nines had appeared on the screen of the tablet he was holding. Directly saving the live feed of Nines to the data pad, that was new. Would've been cool even if it wasn't so fucking weird.

"RK900, number 313-248-317-87," Nines responded in the same tone.

"And your new name?" Gavin's eyes widened at the question, realizing what Nines was doing. Re-registering himself. Giving himself a name that wasn't just his model number. Call it instinct, or maybe just middling intelligence, but Gavin was pretty sure he knew what the android was going to choose.

"Nines," Gavin's heart thumped weirdly to hear the android say it anyway. A name was…Well, Gavin thought it should be a big deal for someone who got to choose their own name. It was weird to think that the nickname he had come up with was now Nines' official name. Wasn't sure how to feel about it. Josh's eyes returned to normal and the recording stopped. Nines repeated himself anyway, more to himself than to either of them, and Gavin thought he heard something new in his voice. More than certainty and not quite wonder. Identity. "My name is Nines."

Josh smiled at Nines, gently proud, and gave the tablet a wave. "I'm gonna go file this away. If you need anything else, you know where to find me. It was nice seeing you, Nines, and you as well, detective."

"Thanks for the help," Gavin said for lack of anything else. Josh disappeared back into the registry room, and Nines turned towards the elevator without so much as a glance back at Gavin. The act would have been almost offensive if the shiny elevator doors didn't perfectly reflect the blue that had sunk into Nines' cheeks.

"Embarrassed again?" Gavin teased, thrilled to see the shade darken slightly. He leaned against the wall next to the call button to get a good, unavoidable look at Nines' face. "Y'know, the blush really brings out the robot in your eyes."

Slight recoil. A flash of yellow and the blood slowly started to drain from the android's face.  
"Hey, I'm kidding," Gavin assured him a little too forcefully. Offered a smile to take the edge off. It seemed to work, and although the blush didn't return full-force, the slightest tinge colored the android's face. Made him look less intimidating. Ironically, made him seem more human.

"I could be mistaken, detective," Nines said as he stepped into the elevator, "but I believe this is harassment. I may have to report you to the captain."  
"I'll show you harassment," Gavin muttered, the threat meaningless and retort not half as clever as he would've liked.

"Is that a promise or a threat, detective?"

"Definitely a threat," Gavin snorted. The image of him pinning Nines to the mirrored elevator wall flashed unbidden through his mind.

"In that case," Nines began, devious through and through, " _Prove it_."

The elevator was dangerously close to the first floor when Gavin turned and shoved Nines back. Against the wall, almost the exact same as he had just imagined it, right down to Nines' pleased smirk and the flash of heat in Gavin's belly. Then the elevator door slid open. Gavin thought the timing was perfect, despite the irritation he felt at it anyway. It had saved him from having to figure out what happened next. Pulling his hands away from Nines' chest as quickly as he had put them there, Gavin stepped out of the elevator and wished that he could turn off his blush the way Nines apparently could.

Wished he could ignore that fact that he _wanted_ to have more time in that elevator.

 _Of course I did,_ he tried to reason with himself, dismissing the thoughts with what even he knew was only a half-truth. _Nines is hot. Designed to be. Makes me a horny fucking idiot, not into him._

Gavin could find something just as appealing at the Eden Club, if he really wanted to swing for plastic. Could find something even better at a bar. Something human, something real. He very pointedly did not look at Nines for the entire drive back to the precinct. The only question his brain could come up with, scrambling for something not awkward or personal to ask, was if Nines had found any connection between the victims yet. Back to the job at hand. Didn't seem like a terrible idea.

"They were both woken up when Connor infiltrated the Cyberlife Tower, but that is not definitive proof that they knew each other. There were thousands of androids who followed Connor that day," Nines LED was probably yellow, but Gavin was still refusing to look. Gavin remembered watching the news that day, seeing fucking Connor marching down the road with a dark look of determination and an army of androids behind him. In hindsight, it was impressive, but at the time Gavin was nursing a pounding headache from being knock out cold and was wishing he had just shot the prick. "The two victims didn't live near each other, but according to the registry, the WR400--Lottie-- worked at a Cyberlife store two blocks down from our first victim's apartment. It is a distinct possibility that our killer is operating in that specific area."

"So, looks like we're headed to a Cyberlife store anyway. How's that for irony?"

The blur of the pen spinning through Nines' fingers flashed in his peripheral vision. "Given the store's proximity to the police station, it does not disprove my belief that the killer is within the department, but without access to the store's client records it also does nothing to narrow down the list."

"We still don't actually have any solid evidence at all that our guy works for the DPD. It's all circumstantial and gut feelings. Instincts don't hold up well in getting a warrant for the store's records." Gavin pointed out.

"I'm aware, detective," Nines paused, then added in a less snippy tone, "Don't worry. I am not allowing my theory to limit my scope of potential killers. Anyone who has come into contact with both myself and the two victims is a suspect."

"Good to know," Gavin drummed his fingers on his legs. The pen kept slicing through the air beside him. The victims might not have known each other, but they had been in proximity to each other for at least one confirmed occasion. Something was sticking like a burr, catching at his thoughts each time he turned them to the victims. He really wished he had the information from the registry to look over. Proximity to the Cyberlife store. And both marched with Connor to Hart Plaza. But Nines avoided Cyberlife, and hadn't even been active at the time of the revolution. There was no connection to Nines and the other two, nothing except that they were androids, nothing except that…"Hey, you said that both victims were, uh, _woken up_ , right? Like they didn't go all emotional on their own?"

"That is correct."  
Finally, Gavin looked over at Nines. The android was watching him curiously, LED yellow, as though he didn't see where the detective was going.

"And you were woken up, too. By Connor, after all the dust was already settling."  
"Technically, yes," the pen stilled for just a moment before continuing the path it was taking between each of the android's long fingers, circling around endlessly, "You believe that our killer is targeting androids who did not deviate on their own?"

"It's the only thing that you have in common with the other victims."

Nines' peculiar phrasing-- _technically--_ stuck in Gavin's mind, but his thoughts were already racing past, trying to figure out how this connection helped their case. There had to be a reason for it, but what? Why?

"There is some…bitterness," Nines offered, sounding as though he were choosing the words with far more care than usual, "among androids who deviated due to emotional shock towards those who were woken up by Markus or Connor. Some who broke their programming long before the revolution, and thus spent some amount of time in hiding, fearing for their lives and resenting humans for it, feel that those who were woken up are 'not true deviants.'  We didn't have to prove ourselves, didn't have to experience some trial to become deviant."

"That's pretty fucked," was all Gavin had to offer for a moment. "So maybe we should focus on suspects who deviated before the revolution?"

"That would make sense." Nines agreed, but displeasure flashed across his face as he did so. Before the detective could ask, Nines explained, "None of the police androids currently employed deviated before the revolution. They were all converted."

"I mean," Gavin hurried to assure him, although he had to admit that he was starting to doubt that one of the police assistant androids was their killer, "none of this is definitive anyway. Could be fucking anyone at this point. We'll find something at the Cyberlife store that'll point us in the right direction, but for now this is all speculation."

"That is…" Nines huffed out a closed-mouth laugh, short and dry. "I've never experienced something so reassuring and yet so entirely not."

For lack of a better response, Gavin just offered the android a tight grin.

 

The Cyberlife store in question was only a few blocks away from the station, but Gavin had never paid it much mind even before the revolution. The storefront was all glass, but instead of androids set up on display like living mannequins, the glass had been tinted black. He knew, vaguely, that most Cyberlife stores had been repurposed into either parts supply or repair shops for androids, but beyond that he knew very little. Wasn't sure what to expect when they walked in, although he was picturing rows and rows of shelves, each dedicated to lines of identical body parts. Maybe some coolers for the blue blood--although, in hindsight, the only blue blood he had ever seen was kept at room-temperature, so the fridges weren't a complete necessity. Still, he couldn't scrub the image from his head, and the effect was much like that of a convenient store from robo-hell.

 He and Nines had been sitting in the parked car for far too long now. Gavin had started to get out the moment they arrived, but Nines had shot out a hand to press against the detective's forearm. The touch was gentle but it effectively pinned Gavin in place, especially one he realized that the android had not done it intentionally.

"Still freaked out?" He pried, closing the car door back and settling back into his seat. Nines' hand hadn't moved, and Gavin tried to pretend that he didn't notice it, even as his eyes dropped to study the pale skin. There were small black dashes on each of the android's lithe fingers; it took Gavin a minute to realize it was from twirling the cap-less pen. There was a red glow around the android's head, answering Gavin's question for him.

"No." Nines snapped anyway.

"Fine, then stop being a baby and let's go deal with this shit." Gavin pulled his arm away gently--the android's touch had been light, barely there, and didn't require any force to remove-- and got out the car before he had the chance to feel bad. Maybe the android didn't deal with stress the same way Gavin did-- _bar fight,_ he reminded himself, almost fondly, and decided that he was making the right move. It was always easier to just get something done with than to put it off and drag out the miserable feeling that would tie knots in his stomach. Ripping off the band-aid, that sort of shit. He leaned back down to look at the android in the car. Emotional wasn't his style, so he settled on, "The quicker we do this shit, the quicker neither of us have to see the inside of a Cyberlife store again. Quit being a bitch and let's go."

That worked. Nines shot him a sharp glare, undercut by the appreciative twitch of his lips, and got out of the car in an instant. LED settled to yellow, with only the occasional flash of red. Cyberlife had really done a number on the usually unflappable android, and Gavin felt an unusual surge of anger--not that rage was an uncharacteristic response for the detective in any given situation, but it was weird for him to feel it on behalf of someone other than himself. He really hoped this would pan out into some sort of lead; not just out of his usual drive to solve the case, but because the thought suddenly occurred to him that it would _suck_ if Nines had to face this for nothing.

What a weird fucking thing to be concerned about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, i've got down a couple of short, one-chapter reed90 fics that i wrote when i should've been working on this one. procrastination's funny that way, i guess. 
> 
> Anybody got any strong feelings towards Gavin x Connor? Im a reed900 gal all the way but there have been some hella cute fics for the other tbh.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> daaaamn ghostie, back at it again with the late chapter

The prospect of walking into the Cyberlife Store was far more taxing than Nines had originally believed it to be, unable to will his body out of the car. He plucked his pen from his pocket before settling back into Gavin's passenger seat, spinning it as he processed. The fidgeting was new; he was aware that Connor often played with a coin while idle or anxious, but Nines had never felt the same urge until recently. It didn't bother him, per say, although it was a surprise when he found his hands doing something that his mind had not specifically authorized. Sometimes he forgot that being a deviant meant more than internal temperature errors and an erratic thirium pump; it also meant being compelled to do things without a specific reason. Cyberlife's programming was--had been very good. Still made his mind rebel against the things his body did without permission. Like blush, or fidget, or feel emotion.

Nines spun the pen with a little more determination. Maybe he wasn't as good at being a deviant as Connor--no matter how much the RK800 objected to such an assertion, Nines could see the ease with which Connor adapted to his emotions, how clearly he expressed them. Nines wanted that for himself, no matter how much his shattered coding screamed that he couldn't have it--but he was still exactly that. A deviant. Falling back on his coding would make his life so much easier…but he had gotten a taste of contentment now, the soft warmth in his chest when he got into a back-and-forth with his partner, the satisfaction of knowing that they were, in fact, friends.

The fear he felt at having that taken away was proof enough that he was exactly what he should be. It sunk into the space where a stomach would have been like a block of ice, made his legs seem heavier than logic and a quick systems scan told him they were, made it almost painful to force himself out of Gavin's car and into the Cyberlife store. Cyberlife could reset him. He wouldn't put it past Cyberlife to do it, if they somehow got their hands on him. Paranoid and irrational? Yes. The low statistical probability that Cyberlife was somehow invested enough in him to capture and reset him did nothing to assuage the too-fast beating of his thirium pump or his abnormally low internal temperature. Even if Cyberlife didn’t have that particular item on their agenda, resetting and selling androids back into slavery was far from unheard of. Not a very reassuring thought. Nines took a moment to entertain the thought of being reset. He had the skills to be very, very dangerous in the wrong hands--on even in the right ones, really. Designed to be a weapon, he had a hard time believing that anyone who would buy him would do anything but wield him as such.

The entire train of thought was moot. His fear was irrational, and he knew it. The only thing that helped to snap him out of it was the concern hidden behind his partner's gruff challenge. Gavin wouldn't let anything happen to him, anyway. That’s what friendship was, right? Not letting your partner get reset?

Gavin had climbed out to the car, his back to Nines, so the android took the pen he had still been spinning and jabbed it hard into his opposite palm. There was no pain, obviously, but the pressure and the thirium leak error served to clear his head long enough for him to regain control over his own body. He had been showing signs far too close to "panic" for his comfort, so he manually slowed down his heart rate and compartmentalized. Fear had its place, Nines was sure, but irrationality didn't. He pushed it all to his least used processor and focused himself on the case first. When that failed to properly distract him--he was aware that he had followed the detective into the florescent-lit store, a the chime of the doorbell accentuating his rise in stress-- he desperately latched onto the first memory that he knew would.

The elevator. Gavin's hands rough against his chest, the cold smoothness of the mirror against his back. Elevated heartrate, dilated pupils, Gavin had been standing too close, his head tilted back like he was going to--

Nines had his suspicions, but the elevator doors had opened before his theory could be confirmed. Gavin had looked _relieved._ Nines had felt disappointed, even though he wasn't certain why. His relationship with the detective stemmed from professional necessity, and if they no longer hated each other, all the better. To even entertain the notion of something else was to waste time and processing power--both of which Nines had plenty of, unfortunately.

Whatever had almost happened in the elevator would have surely been a mistake. Gavin hadn't even wanted to look at him after--which was notable given the amount of scrutiny Nines had been consistently under from the detective. If Gavin had been an android, he likely would be scanning Nines with every glance nowadays. Nines couldn't be sure of the importance, or what caught the detective's attention, but he felt confident that it was nothing more than plain curiosity. Which made his own reaction to the attention all the more baffling; the heat that rose inside him, the immediate need to reduce his thirium flow to avoid blushing, the--

"Hey, Nines? They fuck up your wiring or some shit?" Gavin was waving a hand in front of his face and Nines jolted back to his senses. It was jarring to lose focus so consistently, when it should have been entirely impossible for him. The annoyance on the detective's face made it clear that it had taken a few tries to get Nines' attention.

"I'm fine," he answered coldly, defensively. For just an instant, Gavin seemed content to let it be, turning slowly back towards the store's interior, but then he turned around again. The irritation on his face had given way to knitted-brow, soft-eyed concern like Nines had never seen on the detective's face. Warmth bloomed behind his regulator, different than the embarrassment of a moment ago. Gratitude, surely.

"Look, man," Gavin dropped his voice so that the rest of the store's patronage--three androids on the  far end of the building, chatting with the two android clerks--couldn't hear him, "If you're really that fucking freaked out, we can-- I don't fucking know. I can come back with Connor, or handle this myself."

"Unnecessary." Nines snapped, which did nothing to reassure his partner, "I just told you, I am perfectly fine."

"Uh-huh," the doubt in the detective's voice was not hidden, nor was the way his gaze flashed to the android's forehead, "then why'd you go all red?"

Nines' processors stuttered for a moment. He hadn't--he wasn't--

**Diagnostic Run.**

**Pump Regulator Malfunction.**

**Internal Temperature Malfunction.  
Thirium Leak Detected. **

**Time To Repair: 00:07:49**

**Stress Level: 83%**

Nines managed a small _heh_ in response and noticed that his stress shot up again the moment he became aware of it. This wasn't right, not right at all. How had he gotten to such a dangerous point without even noticing the change? Emotions were so _dangerous._

"It would seem that I am experiencing a high level of stress." It was overwhelming. His coding strained even harder, old broken lines fighting to repress the feelings. He gave in. Just because Cyberlife's programming could no longer control him did not make it useless; he felt himself still, allowing the robotic equivalent of instinct to take control, repressing everything that was not deemed vital by Cyberlife's standards. The errors resolved themselves on their own as his processors automatically compartmentalized. His emotions were still present, of course--nothing short of a full reset could get rid of them entirely-- but they were dulled, the sharp edges blunting themselves against the confines of a redundant processor, barely used.  Although his stress level stubbornly refused to go down even as the whirlwind of emotion receded, at least it wasn't still on the rise. 83% and steady. 

 Idly, he wondered if Gavin might take him to another bar tonight. Feeling the hum of energy under his synthetic skin as his combat protocols engaged, his programming minimizing the errors that kept interrupting his vision, his mind empty of everything except his own preconstructions-- it sounded really fucking good at that moment.

"No fucking shit. You aren't gonna bash your own head in or anything, right?"

The words may have been joking, but the detective's tone was serious. Concerned, worried. Scared, even. His eyes were glued to Nines' LED as though it were something strange and threatening rather than a semi-permanent fixture of the android's face.

"No." That felt inadequate. "No, I will not self-destruct. I would just prefer that we conclude our business here in all haste."

Gavin leaned in. Nines could practically feel the pressure of the detective's gaze on his face. Analyzing, the human way. Clearly, the detective was not reassured by what he saw.

"Right. Look, we'll get this shit done quick, okay? Try not to freak out. Deep breaths, or--or whatever the fuck you gotta do to calm down."

Nines wasn't sure how they could control the amount of time this operation would take, given the nebulous connection between the store and the victims as well as the uncertainty of whether or not the store clerks would or could co-operate. He pointed none of that out, however, and took the detective's advice. Breathing was a completely optional action, it's purpose mostly serving to set humans at ease or occasionally to aid in internal cooling. Given how high his temperature had gotten in the wake of his own panic, taking several deep breaths of the store's cool air seemed practical at the very least. It had the surprising but pleasing side effect of being a grounding action as well, and the more Nines breathed the looser the knots in his torso got.

Gavin was still giving him a strangely indecipherable look. Nines tried not to linger on it, offering a sharp nod of reassurance instead. Despite the store being managed by androids--who seemed healthily concerned at the appearance of Nine and his red-flashing LED and almost equally perturbed by his gruff human partner-- Gavin handled most of the interviewing, and even Nines had to admit being impressed by how easily he handled the manager's suspicions.

"Just because I'm human doesn't mean I'm about to let this sick fuck murder anymore people," Gavin had barely restrained himself from snapping when the manager had squinted at him and demanded to know why a human was investigating android murders, but the fire behind his words lent themselves to the truth of the statement. The manager seemed appeased, and Nines took note of the detective's particular word choice. _People._

Something had clearly shifted in the detective's mind, and his unease at the previous crime scene suddenly made sense to Nines. The interview Gavin was conducting fell to the wayside as Nines took a step back in his own head, combing through every memory involving the detective, looking for the turning point. The moment when "plastic" became "people," and "property damage" became "murder."  Did the detective even notice the change within his own psyche?

Blame it on his deviancy-sized ego, but Nines felt a surge of something far stronger than satisfaction at the idea that it was _him_ who had changed Gavin's feelings on androids. Logically, it was the only possibility that made sense. Humans were stubborn creatures, not prone to sudden, unprompted changes in opinion. The first month of his partnership with the man was taxing, to put it mildly, and Nines' pride was all that prevented him from requesting a reassignment. The memory almost made him laugh now, feeling the hollow echoes of indignation that had consumed him: He was _the most_ advanced prototype ever created, not at all comparable to a "toaster with a glowstick," and he would self-destruct before he allowed some socially-stunted human to drive him off. At the time, every day had been a battle, fighting his own partner on every front while still treading the line of professionalism. Nines firmly believed that Gavin had changed because _he_ had, their partnership shifting to something more like give and take than a constant clash; Gavin called him a short-circuiting plastic prick, he retorted that Gavin was a squishy ineffective jackass. Neither of them meant it anymore.

_Friends._

**Thirium Leak Repaired.**

**Stress Level: 62%**

Encouraged by the sudden drop in stress, Nines allowed himself to cautiously pry at the feelings still tamped down in the back of his mind, finding that the tight grip in his chest had loosened to something less constrictive. The deep, steady breathing pattern Nines had forced himself to maintain laxed as well, returning to an automatic background process rather than a focused, intentional action. There was still the lancing shock of panic that pierced through him if he allowed his gaze to settle on the wall of pump regulators or the arms of an assembly machine through the door to the back room, so he didn't look. Didn't allow himself to see the store around him, held back his own memories of metal arms wrenching his body into the air, twisting mechanical limbs pulling pieces of him away. Dismissed the echo of a warning in his visual overlay that threatened a memory reset.  
Instead he looked to his own partner, allowing the rest of the store to fall away. Later, he could review the audio he was constantly recording and actively process the interaction between the detective and the store manager. For now, he focused on the scar across the detective's nose, cutting diagonally across the bridge. Nines wondered how he had earned it, running several reconstructions of possible events but finding none with a noticeably high likelihood. The detective had a variety of scars that Nines had seen, and Nines felt an undeniable curiosity about all of them. When it came down to it, Nines supposed he liked scars; they were memories carved into skin, proof of history. Synthetic skin could not scar in the same way, and Nines had not lived long enough to have a lifetime of history written across his body anyway. Maybe he was jealous, but he didn't think so. The feeling that took up residence in Nines was softer, less jagged than envy; he felt his gaze soften as it brushed over Gavin's exposed scars. The word his mind settled on was wistful, but for what he wasn't entirely sure.

His fingers twitched by his side, but he did not move.

"Nines? Hey, 900. Terminator," Nines became all too aware of the fact that Gavin was trying to get his attention, and likely had been for some time now. "Shit, are you broken?"

"No," the android muttered in response, shaking his head a bit too jerkily. He only had to raise his gaze an inch to make eye contact, but the intensity of the concern in Gavin's eyes made him look away again. "Just thinking."

Nines took a moment to catch up with his surroundings. He and Gavin had been left completely alone by the store counter, although the way the detective leaned against it implied that they were waiting for the manager's return. _Waiting on security feed,_ his mind supplied helpfully, replaying the entire conversation he had missed in an instant. Sloppy, he shouldn't have allowed himself to get distracted on the job. Who knows what else he had willfully ignored?  
"Lost in thought, alright," Gavin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "What, something on my face?"

Nines felt the warmth of the blush reaching his cheeks, but could not be bothered to halt the flow of thirium. "I-- no. Technically, yes. How did you get that scar?"

The detective let his head roll back, staring up at the ceiling and effectively hiding his expression from Nines, who immediately regretted asking. It was likely not a pleasant memory, and Nines sincerely wished to avoid dredging up something that would put his partner into one of his increasingly rare foul moods. Gavin's heartrate increased slightly.  
When Gavin dropped his head again, his expression was carefully controlled. A lopsided grin that didn't reach his eyes, which were soft and pained. "Tell you some other time, alright?"

"You don't have to," Nines replied immediately, but the man's grin only spread in response, "It was not my goal to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, dumbass." There was a long pause, and Gavin's face fell into something more somber, "Not a great memory, really, but I don't mind telling you about it. I've learned to deal with that shit by now, at least."

"Perfect. My curiosity gets sated _and_ I don't have to deal with you turning into a blubbering mess?" Nines had taken on an automatic detached tone that was in no way genuine, and Gavin's smirk returned.

"Oh, you're one to fucking talk," the detective rolled his eyes dramatically and let out a bark of dry laughter, "Hate to break it to you, dipshit, but you're the one all but having a meltdown right now."

"It would require temperatures exceeding four hundred and ninety degrees Fahrenheit in order to fully melt down my exoskeleton and internal biocomponents," Nines responded, robotically, one part deflection and one part joke. Gavin genuinely groaned, sounding almost pained.

"Fucking androids," he swore, rather loudly given their location, but no one else was around to hear it. Following the exclamation, Gavin's smirk tilted itself and his eyes sparkled with humor. "Seriously though, thanks for the intel. Now I know what to set the thermostat to when we get back."

"If I die by meltdown tonight, I'll at least take solace in the fact that I ruined your carpeting," Nines retorted airily, prompting a deep, chesty laugh from Gavin that sent several errors screaming into the android's visual field. His face warped itself into a proud grin as pleasant heat shot through his body, staving off the cold dread that had numbed him from the moment he stepped into the store. If Nines tried to picture himself melting onto Gavin's apartment floor, it would likely turn out far more gruesome than the matter warranted, but the abstract idea was cartoonishly amusing and the detective's laughter was far more pleasant than it had any right to be. It was difficult to resist laughing along.

"Jesus Christ, Nines," Gavin panted for breath as his laughter slowly died down, wiping at his eyes. Whatever else he was about to say was interrupted, though, as the manager returned to the front of the store. The manager was clearly recognizable as an AV500, although he had modified his appearance to the fullest extent. Not that it was much of a change, darkening the default ginger hair to jet black and adjusting his eye color to the same. The basic facial shape was much the same, and the end result was that the thin, mouse-like face looked somehow older, as though the darker features had matured it.

"Detective," the AV500--registered as Avery-- handed Gavin a data pad, his face tight. "I've downloaded the appropriate security footage to this data pad. Should you need any other information relevant to your case, I've also included my personal contact."

"Thanks," Gavin took the tablet and offered the manager a tight, serious smile. "We appreciate your cooperation."  
"Of course, detective. I hope you find this bastard soon."  
The detective nodded, a silent agreement, and turned to leave. Nines hesitated to follow, turning instead to the manager and holding out a hand. Avery accepted the gesture with a confused expression, skinless hands clasping for only a moment while Nines offered his and the detective's contacts as well. The intent moved through their interface; with a murderer possibly using his store as some sort of choosing ground, Nines thought it best that Avery be able to contact them directly should he notice something suspicious or find himself in danger for helping them.

Stepping out of the store was not unlike shedding a lead blanket, and Nines' limbs returned to their proper weight. Everything was slowly leveling out the further he got from the door, his thirium pump slowing on its own and his internal temperature stabilizing. There was a sharp edge lingering in his chest, and he felt _off_ , like something inside him was out of alignment, but a quick diagnostic told him that nothing was physically wrong.

Gavin was watching him again, gaze shrewd, and Nines knew that his own discomfort was written all over his face. Rather than straighten his expression into something less obviously emotional, Nines let his mouth quirk into a wry grin and shrugged. " _Fuck_ emotions."

"Fuckin' mood," Gavin barked, laughter shaking his shoulders for the second time in five minutes. So much for stabilizing vitals; Nines felt his insides jump in a way that was irresistibly pleasant. This time he let himself chuckle, a low sound that vibrated in his chest in a way that shouldn't have been possible. When the detective got control of his reaction, stifling his laughter into a wide smile that crinkled his light eyes, Nines' simulated breathing hitched. Lucky, then, that he didn't actually need the air. Maybe "fond" was too generous a word for the look that Gavin was giving Nines, but it was the perfect word to describe how the android felt towards his partner at that moment. Warm and light and helplessly eager to make the detective laugh again, to see the man's hazy eyes light up and know that it was entirely his doing. The feeling didn't completely dull the pointed emotions in his gut, or the subtle unalignment inside, but it helped.

The car unlocked itself the moment Gavin laid a hand on the security panel, and he had the door open and was in the process of slinking into the seat before he realized that Nines hadn't taken his place at the passenger side. He straightened back up and shot Nines a curious look, holding up the data pad for emphasis. "Back to the precinct then? Check out this footage and see if it turns up anything?"

"Actually, detective, I'm going to take the rest of the afternoon off," Nines confessed, careful not to make it sound as though he were asking for permission.  
"Don't know why I was ever worried about you pricks taking my job," Gavin muttered, shaking his head exasperatedly, "You show up late, leave early. Got the work ethic of a fifty year old drunk, Nines."  
"If that was a jab at the lieutenant, Detective Reed, I feel the need to inform you that you are being incredibly rude."  
"Technically, asshole, it was a jab at you. If I _happened_ to hit two birds with one stone…" Gavin shrugged  and raised an eyebrow. "If you aren't going back, I'm out too. No way I'm dealing with Captain Asshole on my own. Where do you want me to bring you?"

"I'd rather walk, this time, though I appreciate the offer."

"Uh-huh. So, just gonna go prancing through the same area where someone who wants you dead might frequents. Great idea, exactly what I'd expect from the poster boy of logical conclusions." Gavin rolled his eyes, and tilted his head towards the car he was still leaning against. "Sure you don't want a ride?"  
"The concern is appreciated," Nines shook his head through the temptation to agree, "but I highly doubt that I will be murdered in the middle of the day, with the streets as populated as they are."

"Fine," with another shrug, the detective half-lowered himself into the car again. He seemed annoyed, though Nines could not discern why. Surely _not_ having to go out of his way to bring Nines somewhere was more favorable than acting as a taxi? "Try not to get your guts torn out, I'd hate to have to break in a new partner."  
"Of course," Nines nodded, smiling despite himself. Concern. The detective was worried; irrationally so, and Nines was entirely grateful. "I'll see you tonight, Gavin."

"Ah--Right. Yeah, tonight." With reddened cheeks, the detective slammed the car door shut, punched in his destination, and the car did the rest, pulling away before Nines had even begun to process what had flustered the detective.

With a very human shake of the head which did absolutely nothing to clear his overclocked processors, Nines set off towards his new destination, insides turned into some absurd emotional cocktail that he was in no way equipped to deal with on his own. Luckily, he decided, reaching out with his own mind and feeling the familiar response signal, he didn't think he would have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, im in the hellish phase between midterms and finals where i have SO MUCh to do and am doing none of it  
> also, next chapter stays in nines pov, but then we get back to gavin because i've found i like writing gavin's chapters more lol


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaat is this, another chapter? Yes, actually, i surprised myself.

The Anderson home was, theoretically, always open to Nines--at least, that's what Connor insisted. Even so, Nines had ensured that his visit would be alright on the walk over and knocked on the door even when Connor had assured him that it would be unlocked. Had Connor lived on his own, perhaps Nines would have been more willing to take his counterpart's hospitality at face value, but the house was technically Lieutenant Anderson's. Nines trusted Anderson, even so much as liked him, but they were not so close that Nines felt comfortable barging into the man's home unannounced. It felt rude, if nothing else.

Connor answered the door almost immediately, all bright eyes and brighter smiles. Nines couldn't imagine the same expression on his own face, but it looked right on his predecessor. Friendly. Caring, even. The warmth that Connor perpetually radiated never failed to strike Nines right in the regulator, and he felt grateful all over again that Connor was his friend. His brother, really, in a loose sense of the term. Of all the thousands of androids that Connor had woken at the Cyberlife Tower, Nines was the only one he had taken a personal responsibility for; from day one, Connor had shared everything with Nines, from deviancy and emotions right down to his career. Maybe it had been difficult for a while, to see the supposedly obsolete RK800 thrive where Nines continued to struggle, but it was difficult to honestly resent someone who was as aggressively kind as Connor had been.

"Nines!" Rather than hold out a hand to interface with Nines, Connor threw both arms around his neck in a very human way, pulling the newer model into a tight embrace. Had anyone else tried to hug Nines, he would never have allowed it, pre-constructing a dozen ways to avoid the contact. As it was, Connor was the exception to his avoidance, and frankly, the physical contact was nice in a way Nines hated to admit. Returning the gesture, Nines pressed his hands to his counterpart's back, deactivating the skin on impulse but not attempting to interface. The pressure against his external sensors turned his attention outward until all he could feel was the electrical buzzing under the older model's synthetic skin, the way their thirium pumps pulsed in time with each other.

"Thanks," Nines muttered when they pulled apart, missing the contact immediately when the humming of Connor's internal components could no longer drive away the disorder inside him. The massive St. Bernard, Sumo, lumbered forward the moment Connor stepped back inside the house, demanding the android's attention through force of presence alone--and a heavy snout to the back of the knees. Were Connor human, the dog's pushing muzzle would have thrown him off-balance; as it was, Nines got to watch with some measure of amusement as his brother maneuvered past the oversized dog, coaxing it away from the narrow entryway with carefully placed pats and head scratches until they were both safe within the open space of the living room. Following the odd pair inside and closing the door behind himself, Nines took a moment to scan his surroundings, finding that not much had changed since the last time he'd been by. The same wafer-colored couch with the pillows slightly rumpled--someone had been sitting there recently-- and the brown armchair beside it that could not claim the same; the book shelves that had been re-organized recently enough to be dust-free but were still somehow cluttered--the lieutenant had likely overseen that particular project, rather than Connor-- and the kitchen connected to the far side of the room, where Anderson himself was leaning back against the counter, smiling just as warmly at Nines as Connor had. "Good evening, Lieutenant."

The man huffed a short laugh, lifting his coffee mug in greeting. "How's it goin', Nines?"

At the beginning, Anderson had been more than a little uncomfortable in Nines' presence--and in all fairness, Nines completely understood why. It wasn't common for humans to meet the person that was made for the singular purpose of replacing their partner. Besides, for all their differences, the two RKs still looked eerily similar, and Nines imagined it must have been difficult for the man to handle the strangeness of the whole situation. With time and some good-natured insistence from Connor, Anderson had grown used to Nines' presence; just another thing that the android was grateful for. The lieutenant was gruff, occasionally to the point of abrasiveness, and from the very beginning Nines had appreciated his consistent bluntness. If Nines needed encouragement, he turned to Connor; if he needed the unadulterated truth, he asked Anderson.

"I feel like shit," Nines answered honestly, knowing that the pair both already knew that. For Nines to show up at their home on such short notice was generally a sign that all was not well with him. Still, he earned himself a soft look--not pity, but a gentle sort of understanding-- and another short laugh.

"Did something happen?" Connor asked, taking a seat on the far end of the couch and motioning for Nines to take the other side. He obeyed without argument, sinking into the too-soft cushions and rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling. Interfacing at times like this would be far easier--Connor would be able to see into Nines' head, so to speak, to see his memories and feel his feelings--but they mutually refused to. While it was difficult at times for Nines to voice the emotions that sunk into him, often unable to recognize them or their cause, it was worth the effort. To speak about these matters to Connor, with his endless patience and willingness to understand, would only help Nines express himself in the long run. Humans couldn't interface with each other, after all, and had to rely on verbal communication when dealing with issues. Nines didn't have much contact with other androids, present company excluded, and found himself spending most of his time with humans. His own partner, for example, or any number of his colleagues at work.

"The detective and I were following up on a lead, which brought us to a Cyberlife Store," Nines started after a moment, his words falling together slowly, "and I was…extremely uncomfortable there."  
"Uncomfortable, huh?" Hank interjected from the kitchen, raising a heavy brow at the understatement.

"Fine," Nines growled in response, with absolutely no force behind it, "I felt _scared._ It was irrational, and even then I knew it, but somehow that only made the feeling worse. My stress level rose alarmingly and it became difficult to function in the way I know I should."  
Connor leaned towards Nines as best he could with Sumo's heavy head rested on his lap, nodding seriously. "You still don't feel right, then?"  
"Not even close. Something feels out of place, but I keep running diagnostics and all my parts are exactly as they should be," Nines confessed with surprising ease. The first time he had come to Connor for help with an emotional issue, every word was a difficulty; with time came trust, and the realization that his brother and the lieutenant were genuinely there for him. It helped, especially since Nines had no one else to turn to in times of need, no matter how few and far in between as those occasions were.

"'Out of place?'" Connor's brows raised in that way that made his forehead crease with worry. Nines rubbed an open palm over his torso, unsure how to explain it properly but willing to try.

"I feel wrong, like I need to enter stasis and self-repair, but there is no physical damage to fix. It wouldn't be a problem if my mind didn't keep snagging on the feeling like it's a sharp edge that I should somehow file down."

"You have been under a lot of stress, recently," Connor pointed out, one hand running through the fur between Sumo's ears and the other resting lightly on the couch between them. A silent offer of comfort should Nines need it. He didn't often, but sometimes he simply liked the contact. It was only when Nines was around his counterpart that he realized how little he was touched on a daily basis. Hugs, holding hands, even just leaning against his predecessor were all rare experiences for Nines that he found himself missing more and more each time he pulled away. Connor seemed to enjoy the contact as well; it was almost ironic that two androids made to feel nothing should be so desperate for physical reassurance, just the pressure of another person against them, and yet there they were. "I know that there's more going on than you've been willing to tell me."  
Instantly, a dozen responses lined themselves up, excuses and deflections and even outright lies, but Connor held his hand up before any words could leave Nines' throat.

"Don't worry, Nines. I understand that there are some things you need to handle on your own," the hand dropped back to the cushion and Nines reached out to take it, skin remaining firmly in place, "But whatever it is has a clear effect on you. Between that and the ordeal with the Cyberlife Store, I suspect that your bad feeling is something like a build-up of stress. One issue on top of another on top of another, until it's hard to force that weight off of yourself."   
"In short, you need a break," Hank interjected again, "You've got too much on your plate right now, and it's gonna keep wearing you down. Miserable fucking feeling, I can tell you that much."

Connor shot Hank a sour look across both rooms, a cross between a glare and a genuine pout, and the lieutenant held both arms up in mock-surrender. "A break, Hank? You mean like what I fully recommended you take for the sake of your health? A suggestion to which you responded, and I quote," in an appropriately petty move that Nines found amusing, Connor paused to pitch his voice, the next words a perfect imitation of Anderson's voice, "'I don't need a vacation, Connor, I need a drink and a long nap.'"

"I _don't_ need a vacation," Hank insisted, hidden laughter only serving to deepen the android's frown. "Look, Con, if I need a break, you'll be the first to know."

"Yes, because I can read your vital signs and will probably be the one to drag you away," Connor snarked back, and the lieutenant chuckled.   
"Yeah, probably," he offered Connor an affectionate grin that immediately softened the android's glower into something more like concern than irritation. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Con."

Nines knew exactly, he had seen it through one of his first interfaces with Connor, but it was not the sort of notion one voiced aloud. Or at least, not at that moment. While he valued his relationship with the lieutenant for what it was, a casual friendship at best or a close acquaintanceship at least, he would not hesitate to destroy the man should anything happen to the one thing that really bound them together: Connor. Not that he calculated the likelihood of the Hank permanently damaging his partnership with Connor as anything higher than 10%, but Nines liked to be prepared.

" _Anyway,_ " Connor returned his attention to Nines with a quick squeeze of the hand, emphasizing the word in a way that would have been sharp if the smallest of smiles wasn't already back on his face, "Whatever you're dealing with right now, we can help you whenever you need us. And at least take the day off tomorrow. Spend some time in stasis and use the rest of the day doing whatever you want."

Nines was sorely tempted to tell the pair everything, their caring gazes and gentle suggestions scrubbing through every excuse not to. After all, they were the DPD's best detectives--a fact that irked Nines less and less the more secure he began feeling in his own position among the department's ranks-- and two fresh sets of eyes might turn up something that he and his own partner had missed. Yet, no matter how invalid his reasons were to not to tell the pair that a serial killer had made repeated threats against his own life, Nines simply didn't want to. And so he kept that particular ball of stress to himself.

"I'm not certain that taking a 'sick' day is going to help me," Nines answered after a moment of consideration, "Detective Reed and I are in the middle of a case, and I don’t think it would be prudent to--"  
"Look, the case'll still be there on Thursday," Hank interrupted, leaving his likely-empty mug on the counter to join the two RKs in the living room, taking a seat in the lesser used armchair. He leaned forward, arms on his knees, staring with shrewd blue eyes at Nines as though daring him to argue. "I guarantee Reed won't solve it without you. Just take some time to sort your shit out. Frying yourself out wouldn't be fucking 'prudent.'"

"I--" Anderson raised his eyebrows challengingly, and Nines felt himself giving way. He could match wills with any human, any day, but maybe he didn't want to. The idea of taking time off to not worry about murdered androids or his own potential death, no Cyberlife Stores and dead-end leads or bad memories to deal with sounded like a great idea. That subtle off-ness inside of him found itself competing with yearning for the emotion that motivated his decision most, but instead of arguing, Nines found himself slowly nodding. "Perhaps a day off would be beneficial. It would be…reckless to allow myself to continue working if I am not at optimal functioning capacity."  
"Whatever you gotta tell yourself," the lieutenant grinned approvingly, leaning back into the recliner now that demanding eye contact was no longer necessary. Connor was smiling too, not bothering to hide how pleased he was with the conversation's outcome.

"At least _someone_ takes my advice," Connor responded pointedly to the inquisitive look Nines offered him. "Maybe you should _both_ take a day off--"  
Hank yawned loud enough to obscure most of his partner's words, crossing his arms behind his head and kicking up the foot of the chair. "Whew, what a day. Better get to sleep soon so I can be up bright-and-early for work tomorrow."

Aloud, Connor groaned his protest, but he used his internal link to inform Nines very smugly that he would be waking the lieutenant up at four a.m. the next morning, and that Fowler could expect them both at work by five. Nines wasn't sure if Connor would follow through with the unvoiced threat, but the pettiness of it was certainly impressive. It was difficult to repress his own smirk at the thought of the grouchy police lieutenant being dragged into work at what the man would no doubt term an ungodly hour by his over-enthusiastic and entirely devious partner. Anderson could be stubborn, but Connor was unrelenting. An unstoppable force met an unmovable object, and Nines knew exactly where he'd put his money, were he the gambling type. The pair would have at least two days off by the end of the month, of that much Nines was certain. Connor was a negotiator through-and-through, and the lieutenant had an RK800-sized soft spot to exploit.

"Oh, speaking of work," Connor's face lit back up after a long moment of scowling at Hank, and he returned his full attention to Nines, "How is your relationship with Detective Reed developing?"  
Hank's scoff was promptly ignored by both androids as Nines tried to formulate a response that balanced honesty and omission evenly. "It is…I think that the detective has accepted me as his partner. Maybe even _likes_ working with me."

"Oh, lucky you." Again, the lieutenant's sarcasm went unacknowledged, although Connor was giving Nines a look that seemed in complete agreement with Hank.

"That's good," he offered diplomatically, waiting for Nines to continue.   
"That being said," Nines obliged, trying not to remember the night spent on the detective's kitchen floor, reaching out to Connor because he had no clue how to interpret his relationship with the man. It was embarrassing at the time, and even more so in hindsight. "I still don't entirely understand what makes Reed tick, so to speak. He seems to enjoy my presence and has become oddly agreeable of late, and we've spent some amount of time together outside of work."  
The last part was only partially untrue. They were spending hours with each other when not at work, but it was out of necessity rather than desire. Still, Nines felt it worth mentioning. There was an odd level of intimacy involved in staying with the detective; Nines had returned the second night to find Gavin sobbing in his kitchen, the first time that Nines had ever seen the man so vulnerable. It felt strange to have spent the entire day pretending as though he hadn't been witness to that event, but he found that falling back into typical behavior with his partner was far more gratifying than attempting to bring the situation up and risk causing the man to shut down. He far preferred Gavin's grinning insults to the dark moodiness that had infected their first weeks as partners. He preferred the detective's grin in general, far better any other expression except… Nines' mind showed him the memory unbidden, the way Gavin's cocky grin had turned into something far more intense, his eyes dark with an emotion that Nines hesitated to label, was afraid to be wrong about. Chin tilted back to lock gazes, his rough, scarred hands flat against Nines' chest, close enough for heat to pass between the two--

"What's with the grin?" Hank asked, head lifted slightly to study Nines' expression. Instantly, Nines forced his face to relax, dropping the smile and slowing his thirium pump before the tell-tale blue could give him away. Of course it was too late, the Andersons had already seen the look on his face and would not settle for anything other than the truth.   
"I like him," Nines answered bluntly, allowing the smile to creep back onto his face like a sign of sincerity. It was true, really. The detective had been the source of constant frustration at the beginning, a sign of all the ways Nines was unequipped to deal with that challenge. Now, Gavin was something warm and easy to be around, his mild insults and joking remarks a lit candle rather than an uncontained flame. Nines liked the heat in his gut that flared up whenever Gavin's face twisted into a smirk, or when he laughed long and deep and genuine. His friendship with Connor felt gentle and secure, something unchanging and stable; his friendship with Gavin was new and exciting, and Nines got a thrill from trying to find the boundaries of it, his feet on unsteady ground but his own grin fixed in place. "I think we get along well, and I enjoy being his friend."  
"Jesus, you got it bad," was all Hank offered in response. To Nines' confusion, Connor shot the man another glare and turned back to Nines with a look that was soft and also amused.   
"I'm very glad for you, Nines," Connor offered, his words layered with a meaning that Nines couldn't quite understand. He reached out with his mind, offering the question silently on his signal, but his counterpart refused to give him a straight answer, just smiling wider with each sign of Nines' growing uncertainty. _You'll figure it out on your own._

As far as answers went, the silent response was completely useless. Still, Nines tucked the words away for later, hoping that eventually he would understand what exactly he was supposed to be figuring out. If not, he was pre-programmed with every known method of interrogation; he'd get the answer out of Connor if he had to.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, the conversation passing to other topics such as the new android laws in the works. (Mostly the new amendments dealt with granting androids basic civil rights, and the more intricate issues--like owning guns or a means of reproduction-- were put on the back burner. Nines was solidly of the opinion that he should be allowed a gun--humans had the unalienable right to bear arms, and it was pretty close to a necessity in his line of work. Connor didn't disagree, but was far less passionate on the matter--he said he would be more than happy to never need a gun again, no matter how unlikely that might be. Hank just thought it was ironic that the two best shots in the DPD couldn't legally carry firearms.) By the time Nines took his leave two hours and seventeen minutes later, he didn't necessarily feel any better than before, but he did feel distracted. Distracted and more convinced than earlier that he needed to take the next day off, get himself together. He had most of a plan in place by the time his taxi dropped him at the detective's apartment complex, planning everything from how he would convince Fowler to let him have the day off to what he would do with his free time. Chances were good that he'd end up scrapping the plan entirely by the time tomorrow rolled around, but Nines didn't mind. Planning made him feel in control, and abandoning said plan to do whatever he damn well pleased whenever the impulse struck made him feel deviant.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor x hank= cank
> 
> okay, here's one. No one's mentioned an opinion on RK1700 (aka connor x nines). I think of them as brothers/friends/(maybe rivals depending on the fic, yknow) but theres some really beautiful fanart for them


	14. Chapter 14

Gavin barely glanced up when he heard the front door open. Nines had shot him the message about twenty minutes ago that he was on his way over, and Gavin told him to let himself in. Clearly the android already knew where the spare key was, and Gavin left the chain lock undone. There was some metallic fiddling as Nines returned the key to its spot above the door frame (admittedly not the cleverest place for it) and re-locked the door.

The TV was on but muted, the news playing silently as it had been since Gavin got home. It bathed the living room in steady yellow light, downright pleasant when compared to the harsh white glow of the detective's phone in his face. He was backed against the arm of the couch, one leg pulled up to his chest and the other foot tucked behind his ankle, Killer resting on the crossed leg in a fluffed up loaf. She stirred slightly when Nines circled around the couch, lifting her head to watch him approach and giving a demanding meow. The android paused, leaning over to scratch her head gently, and Gavin hated the way his heart thumped when Nines got so close. He was sure that the android would notice, because of course he would. Nines took his place on the other side of the couch after a moment, tucking one leg under himself as he did so and leaning back to let the cushions support him. It was far different from how he usually sat, all stiff-backed and seeming ready to jump to his feet at any moment. The spike of anxiety that twisted into Gavin's stomach couldn't be helped; whatever had been going on with Nines earlier that day had him worried even now. Red LEDs had never been a good thing as far as Gavin knew--a fact confirmed by the two hours' worth of research he had done while Nines had been out-- and he couldn't help but remember the angry crimson at Nines' temple while the rest of the android's pretty face twisted up into a terrified grimace. Even at the end there, when Nines stopped looking like he expected some sort of gruesome avatar of death to swoop down upon him and managed a few dry jokes, his LED refused to spin anything other than yellow with the occasional red stutter. In hindsight, Gavin knew he should've asked what was happening in the android's head, but it probably wasn't anything the detective would've been able to help with. Or maybe it was; no way to fucking know now.

"Where'd you go?" Gavin asked after a moment, weighing the pros and cons of being nosy right off the bat and deciding that he didn't really give a shit. He had spent the past two hours in anxious agitation, fully knowing that Nines wouldn't run off and self-destruct but still having to throw himself into his research in order to get the thought out of his head.

"To see Connor," Nines answered easily, unbothered by the detective's curiosity. "I hoped that he could help me make sense of…"  
The android made a vague gesture with his arms that Gavin took the liberty of translating to mean "all these fucking emotions." He knew that feeling for sure. For example, the pang of jealousy that shot through him at that moment was total emotional bullshit. Why the fuck would Nines want to talk to Gavin about that sort of thing? The detective was self-aware enough to know that he absolutely sucked at dealing with his own human feelings; he shouted, punched, or drank his way out of anything that required the slightest bit of emotional introspection, so there was no way in hell that he could help Nines out in that field.

"And did he?"

"Not particularly. But he did give me some advice." The android paused, clearly waiting for Gavin to ask what wise words of wisdom Connor had imparted. If Gavin were a little more patient, he might've waited for Nines to break on his own, but curiosity killed the Killer and Gavin really wanted to know.  
"And?"

"And I think I'm going to take the day off tomorrow," Nines finished, the conclusion not nearly as sage as Gavin had secretly hoped it would be. He had expected some android proverb or at the very least something more interesting than the age-old "take a break."

"Oh," was all Gavin offered in response. He was already trying to imagine himself sitting at his desk, alone, slogging through hours of security footage that Nines could go through in a matter of seconds, bored out of his skull. Nines kept things interesting with his fast paced analysis and witty commentary to boot, and without him Gavin was pretty sure the next day would be the longest one in months.

There was a moment of silence following the lackluster response, and Nines smiled wryly, a private twist that looked as though he were sharing an inside joke with himself.

"Call in tomorrow." Nines insisted suddenly, turning his head to hold Gavin's gaze with steady intensity.

"What?"

"I mean," the android twisted slightly so that his torso was facing Gavin as well, leaning towards the detective in a position that probably would've been uncomfortable for most humans, "your vitals have been consistently leaning towards higher than usual stress as well, so it would be beneficial to your health for you to take a day off."

"Right. And what, my day off just happens to coincide with your day off for no reason?" While Gavin wasn't an idiot--mostly-- and knew exactly what Nines was getting at, it was fun to watch the android struggle to justify what had clearly been an impulsive recommendation. Of course, some of the humor was lost when the detective realized that he was already coming up with an excuse to give Fowler in the back of his mind. Without so much as thinking it through, Gavin had already silently agreed to play hooky to-What? Hang out with his asshole of a partner?

Yeah, sounded pretty on-brand for himself, honestly.

Didn't mean he wouldn't make Nines work for it, he thought smugly.

"Of course. That's the point."

Between the yellow-spun LED, the averted gaze, and the blue tint to his cheeks, Gavin thought that Nines looked endlessly adora--amusing. Flustered looked every bit as good on the android as his usual self-assuredness, which Gavin personally believed to be entirely unfair. How could someone who blushed blue like a goddamn alien still look so incredibly, humanly gorgeous. Fuck whoever designed Nines--

"The point, huh?" Gavin grinned, uncontrollably wicked, content to fuck with the android a little longer before he inevitably agreed. Because he was feeling pretty stressed out by this twisted bullshit of a case, and could never resist a day off. Definitely not because his heart sped up at just the thought of spending the day with Nines, free of the constraints and the tensions their job forced on them. Not that there would be anything wrong with wanting to spend some time with Nines, right? They were friends, Gavin himself had admitted as much. That's what friends did, they hung out, they teased each other. Although shoving someone against an elevator wall usually isn't super platonic, Gavin's own mind betrayed him, and neither is thinking about them in the shower-- Fucking hell, not the time to think about that. "If you're trying to ask me out, you gotta be more to the point, Ninesy."

Gavin fully expected Nines to fix him with a glare and a terse lecture on the inappropriateness of fraternization, or at the very least some friendly mockery. What he did not expect was the way Nines' gaze suddenly met his, intensely earnest in a way that made Gavin's breathing hitch in his throat. "Spend the day with me tomorrow, Gavin."  
"Yeah, alright," the detective was helpless to do anything but agree, any objections he might have still been fostering falling away at the way Nines practically beamed at him--which technically was more of pleased half-grin than an ear-to-ear smile, but the way his machine grey eyes lit up made up for the reserved expression. Sure, Fowler would tear them both a new one and they were technically in the middle of a case, which is as inopportune a time as any for a break, but they still didn't have any leads. So, whatever, a day off would do them both some good. Maybe Nines could convince Connor to pick up the slack for a day--as far as Gavin knew, the other android-human duo weren't currently on a case, and fresh eyes would probably do some good.

Funny, taking a day off almost sounded like the best idea Gavin had ever heard.

Nines leaned back again, smile still firmly in place, staring at the TV rather than directly into the detective's eyes. It worked wonders for his breathing and heartrate, both of which eventually settled back into their proper paces. If the android had noticed the effect he continuously had on Gavin, he had the grace not to mention it. Gavin remembered overhearing Connor call Anderson out in the breakroom, jealously rattling off the signs of attraction the lieutenant's body had displayed towards a pretty witness or some shit. At the time, just a few days before Nines' arrival, it had been fucking hilarious, but now it felt like the universe had been warning Gavin and he was just too dense to get it.

Not that it mattered. Nines was fucking hot, anyone with eyes could see that. Didn't mean anything if Gavin's heart pitched faster when he was near. The fact that the android hadn't brought it up other than the one joke probably meant that he understood that, too.

"Do you have any hobbies, detective?" Nines asked, clear out of the blue, gaze still settled on the TV. Gavin definitely did not jump a little at the suddenness of the question, but he would admit to being startled.

"Besides chain smoking and solving homicides?" Gavin snarked, turning his head to look at the profile of the android's pretty face. A quirk of Nines' pale lips, just the barest hint of the grin that the detective was getting just a little too used to seeing.

"I don't think you can count your actual job as a hobby," Nines pointed out, and then his mouth tilted down as he continued, "Also, I meant activities that weren't actively shortening your lifespan. You really should stop that."

"Fucking hell," Gavin muttered in response, resisting the urge to light a cigarette then and there just to fuck with Nines. When he was younger, he didn't mind smoking in his own apartment, but the older he got the more he preferred to just step outside. Just because he liked to smoke didn't mean he liked the smell of it. Besides, he worked a case where some lady got burned to death in her apartment. Foul play was suspected at first, but eventually they figured out that she had accidentally set her curtains on fire when smoking, and it all escalated. Of all the ways Gavin could die--most of them violent and painful-- he decided that burning alive would not be his first choice. "Are you really nagging me right now?"

"No," a brief, almost smug pause, "Are you really avoiding my question right now?"

"No," Gavin repeated, sounding petulant even to his own ears. Truthfully, he was feeling a little defensive all of a sudden. He really didn't have any hobbies. Between work and his general state of permanent exhaustion, he didn't have the time or the energy to do anything but lay in bed, feeling miserable and wishing he could just slip into oblivion. Even his social life was shit, one part due to the aforementioned sleep deprivation, and another due to the fact that he was a complete and utter asshole. Tina put up with him, but the last time they had gone out for drinks together--which is all they ever did outside of work-- had been a little over a month ago. Most people who got along with Gavin did so in passing; they couldn't stand being around him for extended periods of time. Not that he blamed them, it was just-- It was just nothing. Gavin wasn't really into self-pity unless it was well past two a.m. or he was a few drinks in. "I just don't have any hobbies."

He almost turned away from Nines as he answered, but instead he caught the flash of Nines' eyes as they flicked to something on the far side of the room. Gavin followed the android's gaze, seeing the shelf full of his old sketchbooks beside the TV.

"You snooped," Gavin accused, but there wasn't much heat to it. Frankly, rifling through Gavin's books without permission was far more human than literally analyzing every aspect of his apartment. Yet it still felt more invasive, somehow. At this point, though, the android had spent the past two--soon to be three-- nights in Gavin's apartment, and the small invasion of privacy was nothing compared to some of the things Nines could've found.

"You're very skilled," Nines replied simply, and Gavin was glad that there wasn't a hint of apology in the android's voice. He wasn't a big fan of insincere apologies.

"I don't draw a lot anymore," He confessed, looking back to his partner. Nines returned his gaze, wrinkling his brow.

"Why not?"

Gavin took a moment to consider it. "Because I don't feel like it."

As childish and abrupt as it sounded, the detective stated it earnestly. Art block, he had thought at first, but in all reality Gavin just lost the energy to draw. Or the motivation. Sometimes it hurt, to look at this one thing that used to give him peace and know that he didn't even want to try anymore, but Gavin had already resigned himself to it.

Nines didn't seem phased by Gavin's answer, just nodded in a way that was almost grave. "I see."

There was nothing to say to that, really, so Gavin just turned up the TV to fill the empty air. The news was as depressing as ever, and so it took all of two minutes before Gavin took to channel surfing, although nothing he landed on seemed able to hold his interest. It was too early to retreat to his room and pretend to sleep.

"I was considering a change in wardrobe," Nines confessed, catching Gavin off-guard again. The detective couldn't help but glance at the jacket he had finally plucked off the kitchen floor and draped over the back of the couch. The white was practically coated in black fur, and as if on cue, Killer returned from a brief food break and settled on top of the fabric, rather than her original spot on the detective's leg.

"Probably for the best. You'll never get the cat hair off that jacket."

Nines reached out to scratch the top of Killer's head, smiling in a way that Gavin couldn't help but identify as caring. It was oddly endearing, the way Nines immediately took to Killer and vice versa. He still hadn't forgotten how he caught Nines chatting with the cat the first night, the interaction strangely adorable.

"I think Killer has appropriated it, at any rate." Nines agreed, shrugging as though it didn't matter in the least. Then again, Gavin doubted that Nines had any sort of emotional connection to the jacket. As far as he knew, the only reason his partner wore it for so long was out of sheer practicality.

"Yeah, she does that," Gavin glanced over to take in Nines, in his black slacks and button up, the sleeves still rolled up, "We could go shopping tomorrow. It's about time that I impart my flawless fashion advice on someone."

Nines raised a perfect, unimpressed eyebrow in response.

"Oh, fuck off. You can judge my outfit when you've worn more than one."

"I'm so glad I'll have your permission, then," Nines retorted dryly, his grin taking the edge off. Gavin just rolled his eyes and let the conversation lapse into a comfortable silence, his attention ostensibly on the TV, although he was still watching Nines out of the corner of his eye. It was funny, watching the usually cool android melt when Killer eventually climbed over his shoulder and onto his lap. He easily gave in to her demands for attention, threaded his pale fingers through the cat's sleek fur. She purred loud enough for Gavin to hear on the other side of the couch. Killer, the anti-social little hell raiser, seemed perfectly content having the android around. And maybe, just maybe, Gavin was too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that took me long enough. Admittedly, I've had most of this chapter written but i just sorta lost motivation right at the end. now that i've finished it and am slowly gaining back inspo, hopefully i'll get back on a better update schedule. i appreciate the continued support on this, yall are all amazing and a huge reason why i wont abandon this work tbh


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